Of All The Things
by fanofkdc
Summary: Sara decides to visit her mother in order to be able to understand more about her traumatic childhood, but Grissom doesn't feel she's ready yet.
1. Chapter 1

TITLE: OF ALL THE THINGS

AUTHOR: fanofkdc

RATING: K+

SPOILERS: NONE REALLY

CONTENT WARNING: GSR, BUT NOTHING ASIDE FROM THAT

DISCLAIMER: NOT MINE, NEVER HAVE BEEN, NEVER WILL BE

Grissom was sitting in his office, wading through a veritable mountain of paperwork. The only fuel he was using to keep him going was coffee. He drained his fourth one in an hour, and removed his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He was interrupted by a knock on his office door.

"Do you mind if I come in?"

_Sara. _Grissom slipped his glasses on and looked up at the door. "Come in," he called.

The door swung open and Sara peeked her head around it. "Hey," she smiled.

"Is it urgent? It's just, I've got to finish this paperwork done."

"I thought that you might want a hand with it. You've been running yourself into the ground lately, you need to take it easy." Sara pulled up a chair without being asked to do so, and motioned with her hands for Grissom to pass over some paper. "Jeez, you look like hell," she blurted out.

"Yeah, you're not looking too great yourself," he commented without looking up. "Are you still working that rape case?" He looked up in time to see Sara nod, and scrutinised her carefully. "Don't tell me you've pulled another triple?" He turned for a moment, and reached for a coffee pot on one of his shelves. He filled up a cup and handed it to her.

"Thanks," she said, taking a sip of the strong, black liquid. "I take it you're not going to lecture me on pulling too many overtime shifts?" she asked, looking at Grissom over the top of her cup.

"I long ago learnt that telling you what to do or how to do it wouldn't do anyone any favours. Especially on cases like this." He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "How's it going?"

Sara took a deep breath, picked up a pen and began work on the paper mountain in front of her. "It's absolute hell," she replied. "I'm not getting anywhere, there's contradicting evidence …. for once I'm just considering holding my hands up and walking away." She looked up at Grissom to gauge his reaction.

He frowned and scratched his beard. "Well, I gotta admit that that's the first time I've ever heard any note of resignation from you about a case like this. Are you sure it's not just because you've worked a straight triple, and you're burnt out? Maybe if you took a day or two off and came back with fresh eyes, you might find something."

"If I do that, then I'm wasting valuable time. I sleep, and that's eight hours used up that could be put towards solving this case. What?" She caught Grissom smiling.

"Nothing. I just doubt that you've ever slept eight hours in a stretch in your whole life." He placed his pen on the desk and linked his hands. "Neither of us are doing ourselves much of a favour by being cooped up in here. What say we both go and get something to eat and drink, you bring your case notes with you, and I'll see what I can find."

Sara laughed sardonically. "You can't look through the notes. This is a serious solo case you've given me, I can't come running every time something's wrong."

"So, you're perfectly happy to allow me to take you out for something to eat, but you won't indulge my curious streak?" Seeing that he was failing to win her over, he changed tack. "Okay, seeing as that's not working, the only course of action left open to me is one of emotional blackmail. How about if I told you that your pride was getting in the way of a case being solved? I'm a fresh pair of eyes, so to speak, and I've had a hell of a lot of experience with cases like this, so I might spot something. Come on, it's worth a try."

Sara considered it briefly. "If you told me that, I'd be inclined to allow you to help out."

"Okay, then. We can leave this forest in here," he said, indicating the sheets of paper scattered about.

"I'll just go get my coat and my purse from the locker room, and then I'll meet you back here."

Grissom took Sara to a quiet delicatessen situated on a by-road off the Strip. There were only two or three other customers, and music was playing almost silently over the establishment's speakers.

"How often do you come here?" Sara asked, cradling a cup of refreshing herbal tea.

Grissom sat back in his chair and blinked sleepily. "Once or twice a week. It's just a nice place to come and think about things, or escape from the world, depending on how you're feeling."

"I often think that those two things are permanently incompatible," Sara commented, staring into the herb-loaded depths of the cup. "So what do you do when you're at home?"

"Try not to think about work, but then I frequently come to the realisation that it's all I have," Grissom replied, smiling sorrowfully. "So I use this place as a battleground for the more intense emotions I might experience in a case. It's either that or ride a couple of rollercoasters."

"Don't wanna take it home and poison the atmosphere?" Sara questioned rhetorically. She glanced up in time to catch Grissom's questioning expression. "Well, there's work and there's home. You gotta be objective at work, not that _I _ever am, and you wanna forget about things as much as possible at home, so you need to have a place you can go that acts as an intermediary."

He found himself nodding in agreement. "Well, this is where I come. Where's your intermediary location?" He tried to sound as neutral, disinterested and nonchalant as possible.

"You know, when something grabs _you_ by the balls and squeezes, grabs your attention, you can never hide it, no matter how hard you try."

_Oh shit, she's sussed me straight away._ "How can you tell?"

"You get a tiny twinkle in your eye, like you do when you talk about entomology."

"You have to be the only person who ever refers to my interest by its proper, scientific name. Everyone else insists it's all about the _bugs_," Grissom commented. "But anyway," he pressed, "where's _your_ place you go to experience extreme emotions?"

Sara paused for a moment. Since her run-in with Adam Trent, she had felt an element of the relationship she used to share with Grissom be restored. But she didn't know if she was ready to go shooting her mouth of to him about every little thing. "I, uh, it's kind of a private place. I went looking for a literal place in which to seek refuge, not just the bottom of a bottle. I realised that self-medication doesn't work. The only problem is, what will I replace _that_ addiction with? Just 'cause I quit drinking, the problem's still there."

Grissom rested his chin on his steepled fingers, knowing that she wouldn't answer his question directly. "What have you done about _resolving_ that problem?"

"I got back in touch with my mom. Oh, that's what I needed to ask you. Is it possible that I could schedule my leave for next month? I was planning to ask you about it at work, but here we are now. I was planning to go visit her for a week, talk things over with her."

"Are you sure that's something you're ready to do? Wouldn't you rather she visited _you_, or …. I dunno, I just feel that maybe you're rushing things a little." He dropped his hands, itching to reach over and take hers. He resisted the impulse.

"Yeah, it's something I've though about a lot. In fact, it's the only thought that keeps running through my head. But I've gotta do it."

"You don't have to do it alone," Grissom blurted out before he had a chance to consider what his offer would mean.

"Meaning?"

"I feel partly responsible for the way this has affected you. Knowing that you're planning on visiting her would also make me partly responsible if something went wrong. How would you feel if I came along with you? I mean, I need a break from Vegas, but, you know, I wanna keep an eye on you. I don't feel that this is something you should have to deal with on your own."

Sara looked up into Grissom's sincere blue eyes. "You don't _have_ to, but I guess …. I guess it'd make _me _feel a lot more secure, knowing, I suppose, that there was a shoulder to fall back on. I just wouldn't want you to feel as though you were doing it because you felt an obligation to do so."

"Sara, there's plenty of obligations that I've missed out on, especially with you. This is the least I could do. Plus," he added as an afterthought, "I care about you. It would greatly hurt me to see you as upset as you were when you told me about your mom. From what you say, you don't have anyone, but I wanna be there for you. I know that when my dad died, I was alone, and I needed someone, but I didn't have anyone. So I know what it feels like."

"If that's the case, I'd want you to meet her," Sara told him. At his reluctant gesture, she leaned forward urgently. "Gil," she said, one of the rare times she used his first name, "I want to show her that not all men are dickheads or assholes, or thoroughly indecent types. Who knows? Maybe meeting you might restore some of her faith in your species."

"I doubt one encounter with _me_ would change her perception of men. After all, look at how I've treated _you._"

Sara shrugged. "Yeah, but that's nothing compared to what _she's_ gone through. Would you meet her? Please?"

"Of course I would," Grissom replied, sitting back as the waiter delivered their food.


	2. Chapter 2

_One week later_

Grissom's cell phone trilled. "Grissom," he said by way of greeting.

"Hey, it's me," Sara replied.

"Oh, hi. How did the court appearance go?" After going over the case notes of the rape Sara had been investigating, he had managed to find several miniscule discrepancies in the suspect's evidence, small enough to be overlooked, but important enough to secure a conviction if they were found.

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about." She sounded upset.

"Is everything okay?"

"Are you free now?" she asked, answering his question with one of her own.

"Uh, sure. I'm at home, I managed to finish all my paperwork. What should time I expect you?"

"I'm just sorting out a couple of things over this side, and then I think it's a fifteen or twenty-minute journey over to you."

"I'll see you in short while then."

Grissom didn't know what to expect when Sara arrived. For all he knew, he may have just imagined her distress, or she may have had time to compose herself, or she may be a wreck. His face betrayed his confused mind-set when he opened the door to her roughly half an hour later.

"You okay?" Sara asked, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. She stepped into the immaculate apartment. "Jeez, this is even tidier than when I was last here," she commented, taking a seat on his couch.

"I wasn't sure how you'd be feeling. You sounded kind of distressed when I spoke to you on the phone. Can I get you anything?" he added, his manners catching up with him.

"Could I have a coffee, please?" She waited for him to re-enter the living room from the kitchen. He took a seat next to her.

"So, what happened?"

"I was just a bit emotional when I called, that was all. We managed to secure a conviction, and it came to light from one of the other 'experts' there that this guy had been reported for spousal abuse before. Something that we weren't able to access in the records, I don't know why. So, with his past cautions, and a couple of prior offences. He'd changed his name, so he didn't come up on any of the searches we did back at the lab. So, like I said, I was just relieved we managed to get him put away."

Grissom nodded, digesting the information she had given him. "How long did he get?"

Here, Sara became troubled. "Only ten years, and that was because he showed no remorse and had a bad record."

"Don't worry," he said. "Ironically enough, most convicts are 'decent' enough to despise child abusers and rapists. News of his crimes _will_ spread, so I should imagine his fellow felons will take a dislike to him."

"Yeah, but what about his wife? She can file for divorce, but while he's alive, he can find her. When he gets out, and we can't forget that if he shows sign of rehabilitation he'll get out early, he'll go looking for her, silence the mouth that talked."

Grissom read her thoughts. "You think she would have been better off if she had taken the law into her own hands and killed him herself?"

Sara's cheeks reddened in anger. "How can you say that?" she stormed. "It's not taking the law into her own hands, it's self-defence. Have you ever been in the situation where you have been in so much personal danger that you will do anything to protect your life? That's the sort of extreme survival instinct when you're thinking about defended yourself, not killing another person. If your attacker dies as a result of that, then that's tough."

He sat back in surprise, not quite prepared for a full-blown 'Sidle Tsunami,' as one or two of her fellow CSIs had named her bursts of bad temper. "Sara, I wasn't trying to imply that she _would_ be taking the law into her own hands, I used the wrong terminology. And of course I understand that survival instinct. I've never experienced it myself, but I guess it's the same thing that drove your mom to …."

"Don't, Grissom," she warned.

"Don't what? If you want a debate about it, I'm fine with that. If not, tough, 'cause you were the one who

brought it up."

"Don't you dare bring my past into this."

"How can I not? It's what caused you to pull three triple shifts on this case. I'm not judging you," he declared. "But that's how you feel, isn't it?"

"What's how I feel? Like I'm being judged, disapproved of?"

"No, actually. I meant, you _do _feel like that rape victim should have turned on her husband and killed him. And I don't blame you. But I think I know why you feel conflicted."

"Go on then." Let him psychoanalyse her. _She_ had the goods on him.

"After the sort of domestic abuse you witnessed, you imagined what it was like for this victim, and wished that she could empower herself. The only problem is, she could, like your mother, get sent away for psychiatric evaluation to a lock-down ward, because she's been tagged 'armed and dangerous,' if you'll excuse my terminology," he simultaneously explained and apologised. "She's already going to be mentally, and most probably physically damaged from her domestic encounters, and the lock-down isn't going to make her feel much better about herself. It's a Catch-22 - she rids herself of an abusive husband, but she's locked away because society's to damned lazy to give a shit about her when her husband was alive and beating her half to death." Grissom tried to relax as he finished speaking, aware that his blood pressure was in danger of shooting up suddenly.

Sara looked at him, understanding now what he was trying to say, knowing that he felt just as emotional about it as she did. "That's pretty much it, yeah," she agreed quietly. "But if we're going in at the deep end on the psychoanalysis front, there's a couple of things I wanna say about _you_."

Grissom nodded cautiously. "It _sounds_ fine, but you'll be able to tell if you've hit a nerve. Just be prepared if I freeze up."

"It's nothing too personal. I just wanted to say that I know you and Lady Heather almost had something."

"This? For God's sakes, that was three years ago!"

"Shut up. I let you finish, it's _my_ turn now. I think I know why nothing happened between you. She was very good at sussing people out, I've been told. I think that she got right to the bottom of your psyche and told you all the things you'd rather not think about in regards to yourself. I bet she saw some kind of animal that hides behind a veil of tranquillity, so to speak. And you couldn't cope with that. Firstly, you'd rather remain a mystery to any partner you had. It's probably why you're not married - you couldn't cope with somebody either knowing all your secrets, or having to bring them out in the open. Secondly, she was a dominatrix - two dominant partners don't make for a satisfying sex life." She finished, and shrugged in understatement. "That's all."

Grissom considered this. "How did you know about all of that?"

"I have my sources. But I wanted you to know that I do analyse things, not just myself. I thought you might wanna know that I had a _bit _of insight into your soul. Of course, I can only describe your mechanism, I wouldn't be able to tell in a million years what drives it."

"Sounds like the coffee's ready," he said, relieved for a change in subject.

Sara wasn't surprised at his discomfort. If there was one thing Grissom valued, it was the boundary he set up around himself. "I'm sorry about just now," she apologised when he returned with their drinks. "I crossed a boundary that should have remained uncharted."

"That's okay" Grissom replied, feeling as if it didn't actually matter that much. "I suppose after keeping walls up for all these years, they're slowly beginning to crumble. Maybe I _should_ let someone get close."

Sara tried to avoid his penetrating glance. "I booked the flight for California yesterday," she said.

"Oh, good. What's going to happen"

"The flight is eight in the evening next Wednesday."

"If you don't mind me asking, what exactly are the arrangements in regards to your mom?" He skirted the direct line of questioning, hoping not to offend Sara.

"She _is_ back home," Sara replied. "She served five years for killing my father. The psychiatric ward said that the only mental problems she had were a direct result of the abuse she suffered. She had to serve time for committing murder, but they cut down the time due to mitigating circumstances."

"If she was abused, then why couldn't they throw the case out all together?"

"That's what I want to know. Along with what he actually used to do to her, and what she did to him. Because I know she wasn't an entirely innocent party, she could be just as vicious as my father."

"So if she's out, where is she now?"

"She got a little two-bedded apartment in some obscure place near LA. She wouldn't go back to Tahoe, not with those memories." Sara felt that she was in danger of becoming misty-eyed.

Grissom moved closer to her. "You wanna talk about any of those memories?"

"Not really," she said, smiling to prevent herself from crying. "Not yet, anyway."

"It's not weak to cry, you know," he whispered, longing to reach out and hold her. "It's okay to let it out once in a while."

"Yeah, but it's something that seems to be happening more often at the moment," she told him.

"If it's something that wants to come out, maybe you should let it," he pressed.

"What the hell must you think of me?" she cried out in desperation. "What the fuck do I look like to you?"

Grissom overcame his fear instincts and put an arm around her. "You look like someone who is in desperate need of someone to talk to. I get the feeling you're awfully lonely."

"And alone," she added, trying to keep her composure, pressed against his side.

"Remember what I told you last week," he reminded her.


	3. Chapter 3

_The Wednesday after, six p.m., McCarran Airport_

"Where did you get to?" Grissom asked Sara. They had arrived at the airport one hour previous for check-in, and, to pay for their organisation skills, they were having to wait another two hours before they would be allowed to board.

"I was doing female stuff," she explained, sitting next to him on the uncomfortable airport chairs. They'd checked in their luggage, so all they had were their carry-ons. She placed her hand luggage on the floor between her legs.

"That takes half an hour?" He rolled his eyes.

"Well I know _you_ won't be waiting fifteen minutes in a queue to get _me_ a coffee," she retorted jokily, brandishing a take-away cardboard coffee cup. "Cream, no sugar," she told him.

"Uh, thanks," he replied, genuinely surprised. "I take it back."

"I also picked up a couple of journals for the flight," she added, handing him one of them. "It's a lesser-known one that I get on subscription, but somehow one of the stalls here stocked it. Thought you might want to look through it." She rummaged through her carry-on, and handed him a thick journal.

"I really appreciate it," he murmured sincerely. "I, uh, I wasn't anticipating you giving me anything, so I have nothing to exchange." He thought for a second. "Actually, you can swap places with me on the plane. I'm down on the ticket as having the aisle seat, but I know you cramp up easily, so you can take it."

Sara took a sip of her coffee and raised her eyebrows. "All I did was buy you a drink and a journal. I wouldn't ask you to give up an aisle seat."

Grissom shrugged.. "You didn't have to. Besides," he added, "your body's slimmer and longer than mine. You'd probably benefit more than me."

Disregarding the last bit, she referred to the preceding statement. "I did because I wanted to," she replied simply.

"Exactly. I'm offering you my seat because I want to." He looked at her profile. She had gone quiet. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she answered, briefly glancing back at him. "I'm just thinking about what I'm going to say."

"You don't about it much, then?"

"We don't talk about it all. We just think of things to say. She can't even ask me much about my job, because she knows I see things that are similar to what she went through, so we avoid it."

Grissom pressed his lips together, considering whether or not he should continue with his line of questioning. "Have you told her about any of the things you've recently experienced? Does she know about the DUI?"

Sara smiled bitterly. "You seriously think I'd tell her about that stuff? Tell her that I've jeopardised my career innumerable times? She has enough to deal with."

_So she really has no-one,_ Grissom thought. He reached over and squeezed her wrist. "Yeah, I figured. How _does_ she cope with things?"

Sara glanced at the hand covering her wrist. "I don't know. I know it sounds like a stupid thing to say, but I have no idea. On the surface she seems okay and fine, but I know she thinks about what she did every day."

"But what's your relationship with her like?"

"Oh, we're close. Very close. But like I said, I never really talk to her about things you'd wanna be able to talk to your friends or parents about. She doesn't need me adding to her problems."

"What does she think about me coming over?"

"I think she's just happy to see a couple of different faces around. She knows that you can be trusted, you're not like other guys. She's always known about you anyway, and that I've always considered myself to be a friend of yours. She has a picture of us when you presented me with that scholarship at Harvard. I think she's been dying to meet you, personally."

"I'm quite looking forward to meeting her," Grissom said, leaning back and crossing his legs. "I want to see what genes you've inherited from your mother."

"Oh, whether or not she's got my attitude, or whether or not she looks like me?" Sara smiled teasingly, and sipped her drink.

"I'm a biologist, so genes intrigue me," he replied plainly. "I'm sure you want to know how Warrick compares to his family, or Cath to hers …."

"Or you to your parents," Sara interjected. "I already know plenty about Warrick and his grandmother, and Cath with her family history broadcast for everyone to here. Yours, however, greatly mystifies me. All I know is that your mom's deaf and your father died when you were nine."

Grissom shrugged with his mouth. "Well look at how many years we've known each other. I only found out about you recently. I guess we've probably got a lot of catching up to do."

"Maybe we haven't. Maybe the reason we got drawn together when I was at college was because we didn't feel the need to have to explain ourselves and our lives. We have science in common, that's all we need."

"I don't think so," he countered. "I'm beginning to learn that by being ignorant of something in a person's past makes it hard to understand your friends. That way, you can't be there for them when they need you." He pushed his empty coffee cup into the bin next to his seat.

"What was school like for you? I can imagine your type, actually," she said before he could answer.

"What, did you and the cool kids terrorise 'my type?'"

"No. I was the female version of you, if I've got you pegged properly."

"Really?"

"Yeah. The quiet one who sits in the corner and reads, and sits in the front of class, always trying to answer questions. I spent my whole school life hiding from the jocks. Shit, my first boyfriend didn't crop up until I was in my second semester in Boston."

"What, you had nothing to do with the cool kids _at all_? No boyfriends or male interests or _anything_?" Sara shook her head. "I don't believe that for a second. I would have been exhilarated if I'd have had a friend like you at school."

"You were chased by the jocks too? Where did you used to hide?"

"The toilets at first," he answered with an endearing grin.

"Nuh-uh, they all used to smoke in there. I learned my first day at grade school that the only place I was safe was the library. They avoided that with a ten-yard radius," Sara said, laughing at the memories.

"I didn't get wise to that until much later," Grissom told her. "I used to get beaten up all the time."

"You the same? No friends, no romantic conquests?"

"I couldn't even _look_ at the girls in my year, I though they might turn around and yank my eyeballs out if they thought I was looking at them."

"I would have gone out with you if I'd have been at school the same time," Sara remarked quietly.

"You're only saying that because you don't know what I was like. I spent all my time either in my room reading or down at the beach collecting and autopsying dead animals."

"Exactly. My kind of guy. I don't think I've changed much," she added, a mite sadly.

"Um, I don't know if this has any bearing on the situation, but ….". Grissom paused, aware that he was becoming more uncertain of what to say when in conversation with his protégé. "When you asked me to dinner …. did you mean that in a romantic context?"

"Why the hell do you have to go reading too much into things? The number of times we went for dinner and they meant nothing."

"They didn't?" He almost sounded a little a disappointed. "Answer the question."

"For God's sake, I'd just been caught up in an explosion, and I guess my mind got carried away when you called me 'honey.' You'd _never_ say that to someone who's simply your friend. You're far too cautious for that."

"I was concerned," he replied. "I was worried you'd been hurt."

"It doesn't matter," she said, trying to pass it off. "And anyway, you _know_ I choose emotionally unavailable men, so I would have thought your question was rhetorical."

Grissom looked around, watching people passing by, on their ways to parts of their different lives. Many of them were couples, and he felt a longing for companionship, a longing which he thought he had successfully repressed many years ago at Harvard. "Um, I wanna continue this conversation, 'cause there's a lot of stuff that should probably be explained and apologised for. But I'm not particularly partial to broadcasting out in public."

Sara frowned. "What are you trying to say?"

"I don't know yet. But I'd say I'm about three years late in accepting a dinner invitation, if it hasn't expired by now."

She tried not to get her hopes up. "I guess we should be able to manage something," she replied.


	4. Chapter 4

The hour-long flight passed pleasantly enough for the both of them, Grissom quickly sneaking in to take the middle seat so that Sara had no choice but to sit in the aisle seat. They sat in companionable silence, both reading their journals. At one point, Sara fell asleep for twenty minutes, her head dropping to rest on Grissom's shoulder. She smiled in embarrassment when she woke up, lifting her head and tucking her hair behind her ear. "Sorry," she apologised.

Grissom looked at her over the top and side of his glasses. "It's okay, I don't mind," he replied. "We've only got about fifteen minutes left anyway."

Sara stretched her legs out and yawned. "My mom said she'll be waiting for us when the flight gets in, it's only about a half-hour drive from the airport."

"I wasn't aware that LAX was close to any residential areas." Grissom took his glasses off and slipped in the top left-hand pocket of his shirt.

"It's not exactly what you'd call _prime_ residential living. But she couldn't keep the house by Tamales Bay, and there's only her living at home, so there's not much point her having a big house."

"But is she safe? Are there no other males around? What about your brother?"

"Just because a guy's around, it doesn't mean a woman's safer. And I'd really appreciate it if you didn't bring up my brother in conversation unless my mom voluntarily offers information."

"Why?"

Sara sighed, not happy at the look he was giving her - it was the look normally reserved for a piece of evidence that caught his attention, and she knew she had his full attention, whether or not she particularly wanted it. "You know my parents found him with weed and grounded him for a year?" Grissom nodded. "Well it turned out that he was supplying, and not just to his high school friends. He was a drug runner for a small gang, and he ended up in juvenile hall three times. After that, he was in and out of prison. We've lost track of him."

"You were never motivated to keep in touch?"

"I figured he'd probably wind up on Doc Robbins' table soon enough. He gave my mom enough shit for trying to stand up against my father, so I guess it turns out Sidle men are genetically predisposed to be assholes."

Grissom, taken aback at her tone of voice, tried to appease her. "I'm sure that's only because he didn't have a suitable male role model to guide him in the right direction."

"Considering my dad broke two of my brother's ribs when my parents found out about the weed, I'm thinking he got the idea that what he was doing was wrong."

"What about you? How did all this affect you?"

"I'd rather not talk about that right now. I don't need to see my mom for the first time in ten years with those sort of memories."

Grissom thought about diverting her attention. "If it's a two-bedroom apartment, what are the sleeping arrangements?"

Sara smiled. "Trying to change the subject? No, I'm only kidding," she added when she saw that he was about to protest. "My mom was gonna give you the spare room, sleep on the couch and give me her room ….".

"That's a bit stupid, isn't it?" Grissom asked.

"That's exactly what I told her, so I said that she could keep her room, you could take the spare room, and I'd sleep in a sleeping bag in the spare room with you."

"I wouldn't ask you to sleep on the floor. _I'm_ the guy, it should be me."

"In case it had escaped your notice, you're also the guest. Despite my family being fucked up, we did have some manners instilled in us." She smiled sardonically. "Anyway, I know you'd do the same if I was visiting your mother with you."

"You don't know how far from the truth you are. My mom would have an extra room built onto the house for you. Mind you," he reconsidered, "she'd probably want to know why I wouldn't be sharing with a woman I brought home."

"You've never taken a woman or girlfriend to meet your mom?" Sara asked in disbelief. Either women were blind, or it was Grissom cutting himself off, and she knew _she_ certainly wasn't blind, so that kind of narrowed it down.

"Rarely," Grissom answered. "And any women that did meet her had a habit of disappearing soon afterwards.

"What, did she kill them?"

"No, they just found her too much to handle. I guess it's 'cause she had more insight about them than I did."

"You're just shy," Sara told him. "They probably thought that you didn't care about them, when in actual fact you're the kind of guy who'd remember everything about them, the name of their childhood pets, how old they were when they got the scar above their knee, the name of their first boyfriend, where they'd most like to go in the world. The list is endless," Sara added, shrugging.

"What makes you think that?"

"You can't help but observe things about people. You know things about them, but when it comes to opening yourself up to them, you're scared."

"Thanks," he replied, looking grumpy.

"You're welcome," Sara laughed. "Look, don't take it the wrong way ….".

"I'm not." He frowned. "I'm pissed off because I know you're right."

"Me being right pisses you off?"

"No. For me, you being right about things is a vicarious victory, as I tend to think we're right about the same sort of things. No, it pisses me off that someone else knows about my weaknesses."

Honey," she said in a brief flash of endearment, "being shy or unwilling to open isn't a weakness. It's something everybody does, it's an ego defence."

"Please don't talk to me about anything Freud said, it makes me paranoid. I start looking at cigars and think they have hidden meanings."

The seatbelt light clicked on, and Sara buckled hers, nudging Grissom gently in the side so he'd do the same.

"You feeling nervous?" Grissom asked, seeing Sara's face subtly changed. He picked up her hand and squeezed it gently, moving his thumb up and down on hers. "Any time you wanna go, or need to get away from there, you just let me know, okay?"

She nodded without looking at him, and applied a slight amount of pressure to his hand. "Thanks."

"I mean it. It won't make you any less of a person if you feel it's too much to cope with me. I'm behind you all the way."


	5. Chapter 5

Grissom didn't know what to expect when meeting Sara's mother. He told Sara to keep an eye out whilst he got their luggage from the carousel, and so missed the actual sight of Sara's mother.

"Ah, this must be Gil Grissom," came a soft deep voice.

"I told you he was a gentleman," Sara insisted, obviously referring to the fact that he had collected their luggage.

Grissom turned around to face the two women, but Sara came to stand by his side, a hand resting on his sleeve. He held his right hand out for Sara's mother to shake, but she brushed it aside, stepping up to him and giving him a hug. She was roughly the same height as Sara, making her an inch shorter than Grissom. He could tell that Sara had inherited her mother's eyes and mouth, both being big when they smiled, but her face had less of the intensity of Sara's. She stood with none of Sara's vulnerable gait, striking the pose of a self-assured woman.

"Gil, in our family, we hug by way of greeting." She let go of Grissom and looked at Sara. "Nice big arms," she said with a smile. "You know how to pick 'em," she added.

Sara cringed, but Grissom smiled back, bending to pick up their bags. "Thank you for allowing me to stay, Mrs Sidle," he said as they began to walk to the airport exit.

"Please, Gil, call me Laura," she insisted, hanging back to speak with Sara.

The two women hugged, but Grissom could tell that Sara was slightly uncomfortable, and didn't doubt for a second that Laura could sense her daughter's uncertainty. "How have you been, mom?" Sara asked, relinquishing her grip, and trying to get her bag of Grissom.

Grissom refused. "What sort of guy would I be if I didn't carry your bags?" he asked.

"Baggage, more like," she whispered under her breath. "I wanted to hold your hand," she said aloud, and Grissom _knew_ she wasn't entirely happy with being here.

"I don't ever think I've heard anything sweeter," Laura commented. "But if I've got this right, you two aren't actually _together_, right?"

"Mom," Sara hissed through clenched teeth, feeling more calm as Grissom caressed her hand with his fingers.

Laura laughed. "I'm doing the whole 'mom' thing," she said. "It's my duty to embarrass you." She unlocked the trunk of the car, and Grissom once again took Sara's luggage, stowing the cases away.

"You don't have to keep doing that, you know," Sara insisted somewhat defensively.

"You should be happy to have a guy who wants to be chivalrous." This came from Laura, but Grissom understood the problem. By overcompensating in his efforts, he might make Sara out to look weak, something she wasn't, and he didn't particularly want that.

"It's okay, I understand," he said softly, smiling softly at Sara. She replicated the gesture, looking slightly less apprehensive than when she had gotten off the plane.

Although Grissom had wanted to sit next to Sara in the back, he reluctantly allowed her to bundle him into shotgun position next to Laura. They all ended up making small talk, discussing Vegas weather and some of the team's more recent, less grisly crimes. Laura could gather from the way that Grissom spoke of her daughter, he thought a lot of her, and was immensely proud of her.

Sara had not been lying when she said that the residential area wasn't prime - it was not far enough inside LA to be called inner-city, but it had an air of menace about it that unsettled Grissom.

"You live here on your own" he asked. "Is it safe for a woman to stay here by herself?"

Laura shrugged, killing the car's ignition. "Sara's already told me that you know about what happened with her father, so you can see that I'm not a pushover. I can handle myself."

Grissom exchanged a look with Sara and stepped away from the trunk, unhappily so, to allow her to gain access to her luggage..

The apartment itself was warm and comfortable, at distinct odds with the run-down neighbourhood outside, and he could see where Sara had gotten her taste for organisation. This apartment however, was less aesthetically pleasing than Sara's, with all of her drapes and books and assorted odds and ends. In here, there were two large comfortable couches, one or two bookshelves, and a television. The kitchen housed basic appliances, and the bathroom a shower, sink and toilet.

The spare room had been freshly made, clean bed linen and flowers being the dominating theme. Laura had placed several candles in various nooks and crannies around the room, and so the smell of clean and fragranced things threatened to overpower him.

He stuck the bags in one corner of the room, Sara squeezing in behind him. "I'll take the floor," he said, patting Sara's shoulder.

"Gris, I couldn't ask you to do that," she protested.

"And you didn't. I don't care if you don't want me to carry your bags, I refuse to allow you sleep on a floor." He turned her so that she faced him, and raised an eyebrow. "You okay?"

Sara's chest heaved, and she nodded mutely. "Just a bit overwhelmed."

Grissom nodded, understanding. "We should get some sleep. You want me to say goodnight to your mom for you?"

Sara gestured in affirmation.

When Grissom came back in, Sara was already between the covers. "She okay?"

He nodded, unbuttoning his shirt. "Yeah. She's really glad to see you," he said. "Excuse me while I sit on the floor, I wouldn't want to subject you to a view of me without my trousers on," he added, grinning slightly.

"Shame, I wouldn't mind," Sara admitted. She rolled over onto her stomach. "I know you and your knees, are you sure you don't want the bed?"

Grissom stood, having managed to change into a pair of pyjama shorts. "Even if I did, you're there now. I don't have the heart to throw you out."

"Who said anything about _me_ moving?" Sara asked breathlessly.

She wasn't expecting him to take the bait, and so was surprised when she felt him slid between the covers. "Don't dare me, Sara," he warned, slipping an arm around her. "Don't worry," he comforted her. "I'm gonna do anything. You just look like you could use some company."

Sara turned her back to him. "I'm not being rude, I just find it hard to face someone when I sleep."

"'s okay," he whispered, and Sara could feel his lips brush against her shoulder. "Have a good sleep, okay? If you need me, just wake me up." He snaked an arm underneath hers, resting it on her stomach.

"You know, for a non-relationship, this is awfully suggestive, don't you think?" She linked hands with the one laying on her middle.

"Maybe," he answered obliquely. "Just get some sleep, honey."

"'Night, then."


	6. Chapter 6

Grissom woke before Sara that morning, and slipped from underneath the sheets quietly, so as not to disturb her.

He had just opened the bedroom door, and was making his way to the bathroom when he heard a voice behind him.

"You sleep well?" Laura was standing at the small dining table between the kitchen and the living room.

"Uh, yes thank you. Sorry I'm half-naked, though," he said, covering his chest with his clothes and towel.

"I wouldn't worry about it. Is Sara still asleep?"

"Yeah. Um, I know how this looks, and we shared a bed, but we didn't ….".

Laura laughed and straightened slightly. "I know you didn't. Don't worry, just 'cause you come out of that room without a shirt on, doesn't mean a damn thing. Besides," she added, "the way she talks sometimes, I _know_ you're not together."

Grissom's cheeks tinged with red. "I like Sara. She's a wonderful person, a hard and dedicated worker, I'm full of admiration for her, and I'm damn proud of her. And she's told me how she feels, to a certain extent. But …." he trailed off.

"But what?" Laura asked, almost sharp.

"But look at me. I'm too old for her, I probably wouldn't be able to give her what she wants. She deserves someone much better than me."

Laura turned her head slightly. "I think Sara's awake. Look, I know she's here because she has questions to ask me. But I'd like to speak to you as well. I got the feeling there's more you're saying, either about her or yourself."

Grissom nodded, performing one of his little facial tics whereby his mouth would stretch in a grimace and the tendons on his thick neck would stick out. "Okay. I was kind of expecting that. Is it okay if I use the bathroom?"

Laura nodded, and approached the room where her daughter was sleeping.

Taken by the mood, Grissom decided to shave. He had no idea where the instinct to remove his beard came from, but he had been sporting it for almost three years, and he felt like going back the old, smooth days. Besides, he felt more refreshed when he was clean-shaven, and knew he looked younger when hairless.

"My God, Grissom, I didn't think you'd get rid of your beard while we here," Sara gasped as he left the bathroom. She was sitting on the couch facing the back wall of the apartment, and so had a clear view of the bedroom and bathroom doors.

He smiled, taking his clothes back to the bedroom, and Sara promptly followed him. "Did you sleep well?" he asked, folding his clothes and replacing them in the suitcase.

"Yeah, I did thanks. Did you?"

"Uh huh. So, you think being clean-shaven suits me?" He stood, his knees emitting a painful-sound _crack_.

"See what I mean?" Sara asked, in reference to the sound. "And yes, I do think it suits you. Much better than that facial hair." She folded her arms.

_Uh oh, I'm in trouble._ "Have I done something?"

Sara sighed. "I try and get angry at you ….".

"You don't try, you _do_ get angry," he interjected, making Sara smile. "What's wrong?"

"My mom said she wanted to talk to you."

"Oh. Do you have a problem with that? She asked me if it was okay to talk, after you've both spoken."

"What will you say?" Despite her confrontational posture, uncertainty clouded her features.

"Hey," Grissom smiled comfortingly, reaching out and rubbing her forearm. "If there's anything you don't want me to say, just tell me."

"I get the feeling what I say, whether or not I want to say it, will mean you don't have to worry."

Grissom frowned. "Huh?"

"Well, whatever you talk about, I'll probably figure into it somehow. What I'm saying is, some things you try to explain may have already been explained by me, whether I want to or not."

"You don't have to say anything you don't want to say," he told her.

"That's the problem. I _do_. She needs to know what's happened with me."

The corner of Grissom's mouth turned up in sympathy. "I wouldn't worry if I were you. She should probably know that you've been having problems, anyway." When this didn't succeed in consoling Sara, he took her hand. "And anyway, if you want, I can sit there and hold your hand."

"I'd appreciate that."


	7. Chapter 7

Laura had made them both breakfast, just orange coffee and toast, but neither were feeling too hungry.

"So, do you have any news about anyone in the family, mom?" Sara asked. She appeared to be more at ease with being around her mother now, not cringing when she said something embarrassing, or frowning too much.

"Oh, that's what I meant to tell you. I got news on your brother." Laura leaned against the kitchen unit, sipping a coffee.

Grissom exchanged a glance with Sara. "Oh?" she replied cautiously.

"Yeah, he called up your uncle Bill about two weeks ago, asking him to bail him out of prison for the night. Your uncle went to the precinct to visit him, but wouldn't take the bail money with him, so you're brother attacked him."

"What was he in there for?" Sara avoided Grissom's gaze, staring instead at the knots in the wooden table.

"Who knows? You know what you're brother's like, it was probably possession or causing a disturbance." Laura shrugged, signifying that she didn't care too much.

"So you don't actually know?" Sara sounded angry.

"Hey, why do _you_ care? After what we found out he did to you, I'm surprised you give a shit."

Sara's jaw tightened, her voice low. "Mom," she growled, her voice containing an unspoken warning.

Laura understood immediately that Sara may have told Grissom about her father, but had obviously said nothing about her brother. "I'm gonna go and clean my teeth. I think you should speak to Gil."

Sara waited for her mother to leave, and groaned in despair. "God, she's only known you two days, and she already calls you by your first name. I've know you nearly two decades, and I only do occasionally."

Grissom shrugged his indifference. "At least I know that when you do it, you really mean it. So, what's this all about then?"

"I …. my mom thinks I should tell you about something ….".

Grissom put an arm around her. "If you don't feel ready, don't," he told her. "Don't hint at anything, just tell me yourself when you think the time is right. I respect it that you don't feel like it's something you should say right now."

Sara pulled away slightly. "I appreciate that," she replied.

"Have you told him?" Laura questioned unexpectedly, standing in the bathroom doorway.

Before Sara had a chance to retaliate, Grissom interjected. "We're still at a certain stage," he told her. "Sara has told me that she doesn't feel ready to tell me about what happened with her brother. If she doesn't want to tell me, I respect that. I'm in no position to force her," he mysteriously.

"If she won't tell you, then I will," Laura said.

"Don't you dare," Sara yelled, taking both Grissom and Laura by surprise. "It's nothing to do with you."

"It's everything to do with me," Laura retorted. "You're my daughter, and he's my son, and what he did to you was unforgivable."

Grissom stood up. "I'm going to go and sit in the bedroom," he said calmly. "You two sound like you need to talk, and I get the feeling that some things won't be said if I'm around." He looked at Sara, and then at Laura. "If either of you need me, you know where to find me." He left mother and daughter to it, entering the bedroom and shoving a pair of earphones in his ears, turning the sound up on Puccini extra loud. He picked up a book, a Rousseau book, something light to read.

He must have dozed off, because when he woke up, the music had stopped, and Sara was sitting next to him on the floor, back against the bed.

"How long was I asleep?" he asked, rubbing his eyes ad removing his earphones.

Sara sniffed. "About fifteen minutes."

"You've been crying," he said gently, pulling her into his arms. "Why didn't you wake me?" His mouth pressing against her hair, his voice absorbed by the brown strands. She looked beautiful, in a vulnerable way.

"You looked so cute and peaceful. You never look at peace when you're awake," she said. "Besides, it's only me being pathetic." She closed her eyes, trying not to let Grissom how hurt she was. She didn't blame her mother for trying to get involved - hell, Sara had often displayed a self-destructive side to her mother that was troubling. But she didn't want Laura telling Grissom what happened until he had fully digested the news about her father. She didn't want to scare him away, not with things between looking almost salvageable.

He rested his head on top of hers. "Honey, you're not being pathetic. I want you tell me what your brother did, but like I said, I'm not going to force you. But it just hurts me so much to see you like this, knowing that something is wrong, but also knowing that I can't do anything to help you." He breathed in deeply, trying to stop himself from becoming overly emotional.

That was the last thing Sara wanted. "Why do you think you always have to protect me?"

"Because I _do_ have to protect you," he answered. "I don't care how tough you make yourself out to be, you're not. Well, you are, but you know what I mean?" He broke away, tilting her chin with his hand, those beautiful blue eyes swimming with feelings Sara had never been privy to before.

Sara sighed, making a huge effort not to cry. "God, I can't stand this any more."

His thumb caressed her chin. "It'll be okay, I'm here for you. Look, do you wanna go out for a walk or something? Get some fresh air, get away from your mom for a while?" Unsuccessfully, he fought the urge to comfort her more, and bent his head slightly, brushing his lips against her cheek.

Sara swallowed, nodded, blinked tearfully. "I, uh, I know of a good place a few miles away. The further away from here, the better," she explained.

Grissom abruptly released her chin and stood up, offering her his hand to help her to her feet. "I'll go and tell your mom."

Laura Sidle sat at the dining table smoking a cigarette. "Jeez, I didn't know families could be this hard to control," she said upon seeing Grissom.

He gave her a sympathetic smile. "That's life all over. I don't think Sara's ready to let her walls down yet," he said. "That's why she's taking a while to open up."

Laura expelled smoke from her mouth. "She seems to open up to you. She thinks the world of you."

Grissom sighed in resignation. "I'm part of the damn reason she's having problems."

"No, you just helped her manifest them. She told me you 'rejected' her, and I think that brought her problems to the fore."

Grissom kissed his teeth and tilted his head back slightly. "You think if I hadn't have responded the way I did, it would have just prolonged the issues?" Knowing this didn't make him feel any better.

"Sure do," Laura confirmed.

"I told her I'd take her out for a while, you know, so she can clear her head and stuff. Is it okay if we borrow the car?"

Laura dug in her trouser pocket and tossed him the car keys. "She's right about you, you know."

"What?"

"She thinks that deep down, you're attracted to her."

"What makes you agree with her?"

"You may be a god friend, but I don't think you'd go to these extremes to help a person."

Grissom smiled. "Maybe you underestimate my philanthropic qualities."


	8. Chapter 8

Grissom and Sara were both silent in the car, only talking now and then to confirm that he was heading in the right direction. They were fast moving out of the tougher parts of the inner-city neighbourhoods, towards more peaceful, better-off areas. Now and then, when they stopped at traffic lights, he would reach over and squeeze her knee, comforting her and appeasing himself.

Eventually, after one last point of Sara's finger, Grissom pulled the car into a space in a small car park that was tacked on to the back of an equally small, but homely-looking diner.

"I used to come out here when I came back to visit mom in my college vacations," Sara explained.

"You didn't go to Florida for spring break like all the other kids?" he asked, with a half-smile playing about his lips. He then attempted to erase the pictures that cropped up in his mind, of Sara with her college co-eds, lying around sunny hotel swimming pools, catching the eyes of their male counterparts. Pictures he associated with his teenage years, hiding _Playboy_ magazines under his mattress, were swiftly locked away in some inaccessible part of his subconscious, along with a pang of jealousy.

"Yeah, right," Sara replied, making a derisive sound. "No, I'd come out here during my breaks and sit in a booth reading physics textbooks." They both made their way to the diner's entrance, her holding the door open for Gil, savouring the feel of reversing their roles.

"Don't blame you," came Grissom's tight-throated reply. "What would you like?" he asked, fishing out his wallet.

"Hot chocolate, please," she answered. "I'll find us a booth."

Grissom ordered their drinks and made his way over to a booth near the back of the diner. "Bring back any memories?"

She shrugged indifferently. "Sort of."

"Hmm?" he pushed, ever so gently.

Sara looked at him, startling him with the look of sheer naked apprehension and fear in her eyes. "Everything that was bad that happened to me was pretty much over by then ….". Her lips stilled as they were presented with the drinks. Sara nodded and smiled her thanks, wrapping her hands around the warm mug in front of her.

"Pretty much?" Grissom echoed softly. Sara nodded. "You want to tell me, don't you?"

His complete gentleness and patience and dignity and chivalry made Sara want to dissolve into tears. "Yeah," she confessed, smiling sadly. "But I don't know what you'll think. I mean, what are you supposed to think of me _now_?"

"I think you're messed up, honey. There's no denying that. You have so many issues that I can't even _begin_ to comprehend them. But I can't think _that_ badly of you, honey, otherwise I wouldn't be here." He took one hand from his coffee cup and placed on top of hers. She let go of her mug and gripped his hand.

"Gris?"

"Yes?"

"You know there's the Elektra complex, and Oedipus, and Laius and Jocasta?"

Grissom's stomach did a highly unpleasant somersault. "Ye-es?"

"What do they call it between siblings?" She was working her way up slowly, trying ever so hard not to break her composure.

"Plain incest, I should think," Grissom replied, feeling a wave of acid nearly burn a hole through his intestines. "Why?"

"I'm trying to think of a way to tell you what happened without having to say 'my brother and his friends used to abuse me as a kid.' But it looks like I've already done that," she added, her eyes clamping shut to stem the flow of tears.

"God, Sara, I ….".

"W….What? You're sorry? You don't know what to say?" Her lips thinned out completely, wet tracks tracing her cheeks.

"No, I _don't_ know what to say. When it happens to a victim, or a suspect, I can say 'it's okay, it's just evidence.' But it doesn't even come anywhere _near_ to hitting home when you find out it's happened to a person you love ….". He trailed off, suddenly aware of what had slipped out.

Sara stopped dead in her tracks. "Did you just say what I think you said?" she asked, the words reminding her of so many years before. "Look, I don't mind, as long as we never bring it up ….".

Grissom leaned forward and placed a finger over her lips. "Slow down," he intoned. "Yes, I meant it. I love you like I've never loved anyone before, and so I want you to explain _exactly_ to me what you mean by 'abuse.'" His hand tightened around hers, reassuring her that he was there.

"When he was about twelve, just around the time of the final incident between my parents. My dad had broken two of my brother's ribs, 'cause I'd found the weed in his room. For God's sake, I just thought it was dirt. I didn't know." She caught Grissom's eye, and dragged herself back on track. "So my brother, as a form of retribution, brought two of his friends over one night, when my parents were out."

Grissom's hold on her hand tightened, just as much for his own benefit as to comfort her. "What happened?" His voice was barely above a whisper.


	9. Chapter 9

Sara swallowed. "They uh …. Well, my brother's friends had a crush on me, even though they were a year or two older than me. And these were his _nasty_ friends, the ones he always got involved with when they are up to all kinds of bad shit."

Grissom could sense her stalling tactics. "If you don't feel ready ….".

"I can't go through the rest of my life not feeling ready. Hell, if I don't tell you, I'll go mad and do something else to get it out of my system." She braced herself, inhaling deeply and closing her eyes. When she opened them again, she found his blue eyes penetrating her gaze. "They fucked me. All three of them," she said in unfeeling, unemotional language. Her mouth closed again, and her eyes drifted down in their sockets.

Grissom fought the temptation to punch something. In all his years, he could only count four or five, maybe half a dozen times that he _really_ wanted to go out and do someone a serious injury. The last time that had happened would have probably been two or three years ago. But the violation of the woman in front of him drove his anger to a point he had never known existed.

Sara looked up in time to see his jaw muscles throb, his temples pulse. There was a look in his eye, very much like the one he had when he cleared Greg's desk for the Anderson case. For a fleeting second, through all of that regurgitated pain and sorrow and emptiness, she felt a ray of delight that what had happened to her angered Grissom.

After a few seconds of intense calming exercises, Grissom found his voice. "What did your parents do when they found out?" he asked shakily.

Sara sucked in a breath. "My mom went ballistic. My dad …. Although he wasn't _happy_ with what happened, he said it was _my _fault for ratting on my brother."

"What?" Grissom's eyes flashed with rage.

"Even though he said my brother shouldn't have had the weed, he looked upon what he did to me as a sort of QED moment." She patted his hand with her free one. "That's when my mom and dad got into the argument. She went crazy on him, and he hit her a couple of times, and said some things, and he hit her several more times, and that's when she got the knife." The tears threatened to erupt again, and upon seeing this, Grissom leapt up from his side of the booth and joined her, grabbing her in his arms and pressing her to his chest.

"Sara, I don't know what to say. I really, really had no idea of this. If I had, I ….".

"What, Gris? You would have accepted my invite to dinner? Let's face it, I'd rather you'd have said 'yes' because you wanted to, not out of some obligation to me." She pulled away from his slightly, wiping her eyes and sniffing. "That was a part of my life, Gil. I can't forget that it happened, just as I can't let it affect me _now_. I don't even know why I haven't gotten over it."

"Because you won't give yourself a chance to discuss it," he replied. "And that's my fault. I've been there for you, but never in this capacity, and that's got to change."

Sara smiled, and touched his cheek, the cheek she'd touched all that time ago.

"More chalk?"

"Huh?"

"Have I got more chalk on my face?" he asked knowingly, smiling tenderly.

Sara blushed. "I lied."

"I guessed that. Not that I mind." He turned away, and picked up his coffee cup, sipping the strong black liquid. "Is that all I need to know for now?"

Sara mimicked his actions with her mug. "As far as I know. I don't know what other demons my mom's going to pull out of the woodwork, but at least you know as much as I do about what happened."

"A true journey of discovery," he commented quietly, staring out of the window opposite the booth, taking in the serene atmosphere. He turned his attention back to Sara. "What say I take you and your mom out to dinner tonight, and we just forget about what this trip is supposed to be for."

"What, just go out and relax?"

"Yeah." His voice was so gentle, and Sara couldn't explain why that moved her. Maybe it was everything about him - the soft voice, the gentle forehead, the childish but surprisingly sexy cleft of his chin, those blue, blue eyes, so blue she felt that if she stared into them for long enough she could drown and forget about everything else.

"Sara?"

"Huh?"

"I asked you a question. Where would you like to go tonight?"

"Sorry, I was in my own little world there. Um, I think we should ask my mom,"

"Okay." He gave her hand one last squeeze, then let go.


	10. Chapter 10

Dinner that night was a peaceful but happy affair. Grissom played the perfect gentleman, holding doors open, pulling chairs out for Sara and Laura.

"So what's _your_ life story?" Laura enquired over her chicken.

Grissom exchanged a glance with Sara and sipped his wine. "Which part?" he asked, his question partly masked by the wine glass.

"Whichever parts aren't the aural equivalent to moms taking out naked baby pictures," Laura answered, smiling as she ate a mouthful of her chicken.

Sara leaned back in her chair, pausing in between forkfuls of her salad. The corner of her mouth turned up as she watched Grissom, completely animated, recount several tales of growing up in Santa Monica and going thorugh college.

"I remember my first encounter with a bug," he recalled, his blue eyes tinkling fondly with the recollection. "I thought it was some kind of candy, so I popped it in my mouth." He winced slightly, making Laura and Sara laugh. "Oh, was I wrong. It was _Leptinotarsa decemlineata_."

"Colorado Beetle? How the hell did one of those end up in California?" Sara asked, slightly disbelieving.

Grissom shrugged. "It must have wound up in our house after my mom had some art shipped over from Colorado," Grissom replied simply. "And then there was the time my mother caught me with my _Playboy_ collection, but I won't go into the details. It was scarring enough for me, God knows what it'd do to the two of you."

When he excused himself to go to the toilet, Laura leaned forward. "Did you have a nice time earlier?" she asked, trying to keep her voice clear of any anger that had been dredged up earlier in the day.

Sara looked her mother dead in the eye. "Not really. I told him what happened," she said, avoiding her mother's glance.

"And? How did he take it?"

"Must have been okay with it, otherwise he wouldn't be here now, would he?" Sara snapped. She caught the look in her mother's eye. "Mom, I'm sorry, but he has enough to deal with without me giving him any more trouble." She toyed with her fork.

"He cares about you a lot," Laura told her knowingly. "And I can see that you have feelings for him."

"Yeah, well you and I have talked about this already," Sara muttered, draining the rest of her glass. "And he and I have also discussed it. To some extent," she added.

"You told me he rejected your offer to dinner."

"He did. That was the discussion. He knows that I have a thing for emotionally unavailable men, and that I search for validation in inappropriate places, so as far as I'm concerned, he's only here now because he's a damn good friend. Nothing else. No matter what he might say."

Laura arched an eyebrow cynically. "Right. Whether or not he, or you, cares to admit it, you're made for each other. So why don't you use this trip to try patch things up romantically?"

Sara looked horrified. "No. No. No way at all. Ever. Especially not now. I will not use this trip as an excuse to emotionally blackmail him into dating me." She silenced herself as she saw Grissom approaching the table, and smiled at him as he took a seat.

"Are you okay?" he whispered in Sara's ear as he took a seat, noting that Laura was concentrating on her plate.

"Fine," Sara answered, tight-lipped. "We're okay, aren't we mom?" she said more loudly.

Grissom was desperate to make some sort of conversation, but was unsure of what areas were safe to bring up. "Even though her background is in physics, did you know that Sara has a higher solve-rate on fibre work that our fibre expert?" he said.

Laura smiled with pride, whilst Sara blushed. "Gil," she murmured in embarrassment. "He's lying," she said to Laura. "Nick and I have an equal solve rate."

"Considering you joined the team later, and were still a level two whilst Nick was a level three, I'd say that was a damn good achievement," Grissom told her seriously. But he noticed her air of discomfort.

He didn't speak for the rest of the meal, instead allowing Laura to regale him with tales of her hippy teenage years, and Sara's early upbringing.

Sara noted his amusment as it shone in his eyes, played upon his lips, and lingered in the cleft in his chin. "That's not the worst of it," Sara joined in, after Laura had told a story about Sara throwing crayons out of a window at people coming into her mom's guest house. "I started _eating_ them for a year," Sara said, feeling lighter all of a sudden.

"I'm gonna hit the sack," Grissom said when they returned to the apartment.

"Sara and I are gonna stay up for a while," Laura told him.

Grissom exchanged another look with Sara (something he found them doing more and more). He reached over and squeezed Sar's shoulder. "Don't worry about waking me up, I sleep like the dead," he told her affectionately.

Sara smiled weakly. "Okay," she whispered.

"I think we need to talk now," Laura said when Grissom had gone to bed. "'Cause I know there's stuff you haven't told me. So spill. What's been going on?"

Sara took a seat on the couch opposite her mother. "I had a sort of breakdown after he rejected me. I've always been a bit edgy at work, especially with the domestic abuse cases," she said, avoiding her mother's stare. "So not being able to be with the only person whom I felt really understood me, and an inability to deal with what used to happen _here_, I turned to alcohol. I'd been drinking for about a year, and then I got caught after one particularly traumatic case. I got a DUI, and Grissom had to take me home. And then. roughly six months later, I was insubordinate to one of the superiors at work. Grissom stopped by to find out what was going on, and then he found out about all _this_," she added, a hand waving around the room.

"You say he 'stopped by.' What exactly happened?"

"He wanted to know why I was so angry."

Laura nodded. "He definitely cares."

"_Mom!_ Would you stop saying that?"

"It's true."

Sara gritted her teeth. "I didn't come here to discuss my romantic failings," she said. "I'm here because I need to know what happened when I was a kid. I don't remember a lot of stuff, mainly, because, as Grissom said, 'the mind has its filters.' So I wanna know what happened."

Laura's eyes darkened. "What you saw was bad enough. You don't need to know any more than that."

"I _do_, mom," Sara insisted. "I need to know what the fuck happened when I wasn't old enough to be able to cope with remembering," she spat.

"Really? Well, your dad didn't want any more kids after your brother. So he wasn't best happy when he found out I was pregnant with you. Of course, _I_ made the point that if he wasn't so insistent on wanting sex all the time, without protection, it wouldn't have happened."

Sara raised an eyebrow. "So what happened?"

"That's when he started being abusive. He'd push me around a bit, hell, he always pushed people around. Then it got steadily worse. By the time you were two, he'd be hitting me at least three times a day. But not where ayone would see it." Laura paused, but managed to keep herself focused. She'd dealt with her emotions long ago, she was comfortable with them. "He didn't touch your brother, he always had a soft spot for him. He did for you at first, too, but it disappeared when it turned out you were happy to be with books on your own - he wanted a daughter who was more outgoing than that."

Sara smiled. "I remember that time when I told him that popularity wouldn't get me through tests at school."

"That was the first time he hit you," Laura told her. "Then he hit me for encouraging that sort of rude behaviour, then he went out, got drunk, and hit us some more. Don't you remember that hospital visit?"

Sara's face dropped. "We went so many times in such a short space of time, I don't remember a lot of stuff," Sara admitted.

Laura thought for a while. "I don't think you're ready to hear what needs to be said."

"Mom ...".

"He abused you, as well, like your brother did."

"What?"

"I know he did, because I saw. That evidence was used when I was tried," Laura explained. "They needed evidence of mitigating circumstances." She sat back, understanding Sara's expression. "I'm not saying any more tonight," she said softly. "You need time to think about this."

Sara nodded numbly.

"You want a hug?" Laura asked.

Sara shook her head. "See you in the morning," she said.

Sara didn't have the heart to wake Grissom. He looked so cute and innocent in his sleep that she grabbed a pillow that he wasn't using, and put it down on the floor, lying on it and closing her eyes.

Grissom woke up in the early hours, wondering why Sara wasn't in bed. Propping himself up on an elbow, he leaned over the side of the bed. He saw Sara lying on the floor, curled in a foetal position, and was overwhelmed by the intense ache in his chest. He slipped out of the bed, bent over and scooped Sara into his strong arms, laying her down in the bed. He placed her with her back to him, pulled the duvet cover over them, kissed her shoulder and rested an arm on her stomach. "It's okay, honey," he whispered in a pained expression. "I'm here for you."


	11. Chapter 11

Grissom was careful not to wake Sara when he got up in the morning. He was thirsty though, not ready to leave the warm bed, and so he shivered in boxer shorts while he waited for the coffee to percolate.

"How is she?" Laura asked, eating a piece of toast, wearing a dressing gown and concerned expression.

Grissom eyed her curiously. "I don't know," he confessed. "She didn't get into bed, so when I woke up in the early hours of the morning, I managed to get her into bed." Grissom winced at his phrasing of what had happened, and Laura let out a light laugh.

"I know what you mean," she said, appeasing his sense of sexual morality. "So you haven't spoken to her since last night?" she pressed.

"No," he answered, shaking his head. "I was waiting until now," he said, pouring coffee for him and Sara. "I'm gonna see if she wants to talk," he told Laura, taking the cups and himself back to the bedroom.

"Griss, is that you?" Sara blinked several times, her voice coated with several layers of sleep.

He stuck the mugs down on the beside table, and got back under the covers, snuggling up to her. "No, it's the Easter bunny," he replied.

"How'd I end up in bed? I went to sleep on the floor." She shifted, and turned to face him, feeling slightly shocked at the proximity of their bodies.

"I said you didn't have to worry about waking me," he chided. "You _know_ I wouldn't allow you to sleep on the floor." He blinked, the blue of his eyes shimmering gently. "Your mom said you spoke last night," he said, sitting up and passing Sara a cup.

"We did," she said simply. "Thanks," she added, accepting the cup. She sat up properly, edging closer to Grissom, sharing his body heat. Noting her desire to be near to him, he moved, putting an arm around her. The soft skin of his upper arms comforted Sara.

"So what did you learn? Or do you need time to think it over?" He pulled slightly her nearer to him, savouring her vulnerability and the fact that it made Sara want to seek solace in _him_, of all people.

Sara took a deep breath. "My father used to beat my mom and me," she said, her voice remaining flat and unemotional. Grissom could sense either rationalisation or a desire to burst into tears, and prepared himself mentally for either eventuality. "He only did to me because he said I was rude. But mom said one of the mitigating circumstances the courts had to take into account was that he had abused me sexually." Her eyes focused on one particular point in the middle of the dressing table opposite the bed. Her eyes clouded over.

"Do _you_ remember it happening?" Grissom pressed gently, scared to do so in case he triggered memories too painful to even contemplate. He could remember fighting back tears so hard when she had told him Laura had killed her father, could plain as day recall the trite words of 'well, the mind has its filters,' words that replaced other, more loving sympathetic ones. Well, it was too late to be cautious about what he chose to say. He was involved far too much in this now to even consider walking away, or appeasing her with words that didn't mean anything.

"No. At least, I don't think so," Sara answered, her voice coming from a distant place. "I remember dark rooms, and him coming in to tuck me in at night. I remember saying things to him, and the next minute I knew I'd be in hospital, wondering how the hell I got there, not understanding why there was blood all over me, or why my face or stomach hurt." Grissom let out an odd sound. "Griss, what is it?" She felt his arm shaking.

Gil couldn't hold it in any longer. All the pain, all the fear that had been stored up since he had found out about her past came flooding to the surface. His face screwed up, he looked as though he was in excrutiating pain. It hurt so much, it hurt him to know that all this time ... he had done nothing to comfort Sara, nothing to ensure that she was safe or had a person whom she could confide him. Putting a hand up to his face to shield it from Sara, he fought the angry sobs that were vying to wrack his massive frame.

It was Sara's turn to comfort. Knowing that it caused him this much pain and upset was almost worth it - after all, he showed that no matter what he might have said in the past, he felt something. She slipped her arm across his back, rubbing her hand on his spine in soothing patterns. "Gil, shh, it's okay."

"Ah, damn it," he groaned, his bottom lip wobbling, his eyes closed, his face red and wet with tears. "I am so sorry," he repeated over and over again, as if in the vice of some hypnotic, dreadfully frightening trance. It couldn't even be described as pain, it was far too intense, far too ... _painful_ to be called pain. He tilted his head back, trying so damned hard to regain his composure. Every time he attempted to control his breathing, he would be wracked with another sob, another shudder, and Sara began to wonder at what damage he could inflict upon someone. He wasn't light, and guy like him, who thrived on being in control, must have been in a pretty desolate place for such an effect to inhabit his body.

She continued rubbing and soothing him, pressing one or two kisses to his curly, greying temple. "Honey, calm down, okay?"

Grissom finally managed to gain control of his emotions, wiping a hand over his face. Clearing his throat, he smiled sheepishly, completely surprising Sara. "I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me. I guess all that stuff's kind of been building up for a while. Better out than in, huh?" He picked up her hand in one of his, squeezing it gently. Sara looked at the chiseled muscles in his forearms. "I should be comforting _you_, not the other way around," he told her, self-loathing dominating his voice.

"It's not nice, what happened," Sara told Grissom matter-of-factly. "But at least I know what happened. I feel guilty that it ever came to the lengths it did. My dad shouldn't have been killed over an argument," she said, feeling slightly confused.

"That bastard had to pay for what he did to you," Grissom said bitterly. "And I swear to God if you're mother hadn't have done something, I would have hunted the fucker down myself and enjoyed putting him through for several hours of torture."

His tone scared Sara slightly. She had _never_ heard that tone before, not even when he had been _really_ angry. He sounded almost psychotic. "That would have made you as bad as him," Sara said, instantly regretting it.

But Grissom shot her a glance, almost forgiving her _faux-pas._ "Honey, I would _never_ treat a woman in the way he treated you. Nor a child. In fact, I could never hurt a person. But when you tell me about what he did, I can't help it. If the fucker wasn't dead already, he would be after I finished with him." Something in his voice told Sara that this was no usual display of masculinity - Grissom may have been a man, but he was definitely an untraditional alpha male. He would have challenged a guy to cockroach racing, not threaten to kill him. "And I wouldn't do it for anyone else but you," Grissom admitted in a small voice.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: IT WASN'T UNTIL I HAD WRITTEN THE LAST COUPLE OF SCENES OUT THAT ONE BIT WAS LIKE THE 'IT'S NOT YOUR FAULT' SCENE FROM 'GOOD WILL HUNTING' AND I KIND OF FELT BAD ABOUT THAT, BUT I THOUGHT IT WAS A GOOD SCENE. ENJOY. OH, AND NO OFFENCE MEANT IN REGARDS TO THE 'TURIN SHROUD' PHRASE - I WAS JUST USING IT AS AN ANALOGY, IT'S NOT MEANT TO OFFEND ANYONE OF RELIGIOUS PERSUASION.

Grissom excused himself from the bed, squeezing Sara's knee. "I don't want you to think I'm bailing on you, but I need some time to think, okay? Give me half an hour, maybe an hour, and I should be ready to face things again." He pulled a t-shirt over his head and slipped into his jeans.

"Leave your cell here," Sara told him quietly. "If you need time to think, you don't wanna be interrupted." She couldn't make out how she felt. It was strange ... sort of ... she didn't know. He had been there, he had lost control, he had pledged his protection, and now it was like he was fucking off again. "Just ...".

"Sara, honey, I'm not _leaving_ leaving," he said desperately. "I just need time to clear my head, get back some control," he admitted. He approached the bed and knelt beside it, scooping up Sara's hands. He nailed her into position with those piercing eyes, still bloodshot and watery. "I promise you that I am not leaving," he said. "I always keep my promises. But you have to understand that I rarely lose control. Something like this, for me, well it's just too much to handle. I need my own space for half an hour so that I can re-evaluate and calm down." He leaned in and kissed her cheek. "I'll leave my wallet here, 'cause then there's no way I can go anywhere. No money for a cab, no phone, nothing. Happy?" he inquired, smiling despite himself.

Sara nodded unhappily. "Sure," she croaked.

"Look, I wanna go and sit and space out without scaring you. Me spaced out with blank eyes is not a nice sight."

"Griss, you doing that is just _part_ of you. I'm not scared of you, I'm scared _for_ you." She was close to throwing herself to her knees and hold on to his legs.

"And I can't change that, honey. That's just who I am. But I don't want you to ever feel that I'm burdening you."

"Sweetheart, I'm not _asking_ you to change. I love you for who you _are_, not what you _could_ be."

Grissom nodded, and, with a heavy heart, left the bedroom.

"Laura?"

"Hmm? Gil, that you?" Laura turned around on the couch, seeing Grissom standing by the door. "What happened?"

"She told me. Everything that she knows, she told me." He took a deep breath, wholly unprepared for the wave of fresh sorrow that swept over his body. "I need to go out, get some air. Think things through."

Laura's brow took on the appearance of a thunder storm. "You're not leaving are you?"

Grissom sighed ironically. "No, and I told Sara that too. I promised her I wouldn't, and I mean it. It was bad enough having to hear what she's been through without having someone to talk to. I couldn't walk away now, even if I _wanted_ to. Which I don't. I just have one favour."

"Yes?"

"Do you have a cigarette?"

Laura looked at him in disbelief. "I didn't know you smoked."

"I don't," Grissom replied, equally disbelieving. "But I need a nicotine fix just this once."

"You want me to come with you?"

"I really think you should stay with Sara."

"She can look after herself." Laura watched Grissom hesitate. "I'll go and tell her. Besides, it may comfort her if she knows someone's got an eye on you," she added with a grin.

"Why the fuck does everyone think I'm going to bail on her?" Grissom asked, raising his head to the ceiling, asking a question to a God whose existence he wasn't sure of.

Grissom and Laura walked in silence along the sidewalk, Grissom puffing uncertainly on the cigarette Laura had given him. He hadn't smoked in almost twenty years, and din't know why he was doing so now - altjough he did guess it could have been a diversionary tactic.

After ten minutes, they came to a grassy park, and both sat down at opposite ends of the bench. "When I went to let Sara know where we were going, she told me what happened. You take it hard, huh?" Laura's tone was inquiring, decisive, but her eyes soft. "Hey, I'm not judging. But it's not a bad sign when a grown man, especially a grown man like _you_ can cry."

Grissom's jaw tightened, and he blew smoke through his nostrils. "The worst thing is knowing how you've acted towards a person, and all the time there was this sort of cloud over their head." He looked at his hands and sighed heavily.

"Hey, I'm not judging you. Shit, I'm the _last_ person who has _any_ right to point fingers. Don't forget, I killed my husband."

Grissom looked at her. "You did it for your family," he replied huskily.

"No matter how many times you try and justify it like that, no matter how many times you say 'I saw what he did to her, I know how he treated us,' you can never fully justify your actions."

"Hey, you can't say that! What you did was commendable ...".

"Dr Grissom," Laura cut in, the first time in his stay that she'd ever been formal, "I took a human life."

"You protected your daughter," Gil argued. "I know I would have done the same if I were in your position. And I _abhor_ violence." He stubbed out the cigarette and dropped into a bin next to his end of the bench. "You can't beat yourself up over it."

"But Sara does. That's what is so painful. She beats herself up over it because she thinks it's her fault."

Grissom closed his eyes. "Please, don't. I can't hear this. It was bad enough before. I have done nothing to help her so far, and having to sit through what she told me nearly killed me. I don't ... want her to think that it's her fault." He stood up. "This has, uh, this has helped me get my priorities straight. Fuck me needing to sit and get my head sorted out. Sara needs me." He looked over his shoulder. "Would you mind giving me a while?"

Laura smiled slightly and shrugged. "I had to go grocery shopping anyway."

"Call me if you need picking up," he called over his shoulder.

"Sara?" Grissom almost knocked a hole through the apartment door.

"Griss? Is that you?" Sara was sitting on the couch, reading a book. "Where's mom?"

"She went to do some shopping. Talking to her made me realise something." Grissom practically ran over to the couch and jumped on it, taking Sara's hand immediately. "Honey, what happened the night your father died, it's not your fault."

"Gil, damnit, she killed him because he got mad at _me_. That wouldn't have happened if I hadn't have grassed on my brother." The tears were coming thick and fast.

"Sara, you can't blame yourself. He beat your mother for no reason, he abused you for no reason. If you hadn't have grassed on your brother, and he and his friends hadn't have done what they did, and your parents hadn't have gotten into your argument, something else _would have._ That was just the catalyst. How can you blame yourself for something you didn't even do? Do you blame yourself for him sexually abusing you?" he pleaded, hoping like hell that she wouldn't say yes.

She nodded and his heart plummeted. "I sometimes think it was my fault for being pretty, or for looking at him in a certain way, or sometimes for just existing. You don't know how many times I wanted to die. I'd lie in bed after he'd gone, and I used to wish and hope and pray that I wouldn't wake up in the morning." She broke down completely, shaking, dissolving - it was like nothing she'd ever felt.

"God_damn_ it! It's not your fault!" Grissom yelled in desperation. "You didn't ask for him to do it. You just wanted to be a child. And you can't blame yourself for your mother killing your father. She was following the maternal instinct, she was protecting you. If you want to blae something, blame the environment of evolutionary adaptiveness. None. Of. This. Is. Your. Fault," he ennunciated, pulling her to his body.

There was something about his big frame that was all-consuming, a protective shroud, more definite and real than the Turin Shroud could ever be. She allowed him to absorb all of her anger and her pain and her guilt. He was making her clean again, restoring life to her, an emotional defibrilator pad. "God, Griss, I can't tell you how much I love you right now," she sobbed.

"Then don't, sweetheart. Don't say anything. Just let me be here for you. Because I love you so damn much that it hurts. But it's worth it, because I know how much more you could be if you let go and forgave yourself for that night. And you're already so much." He rested his head on top of hers, feeling relieved at this catharsis. He _did_ love her, but it was more that love, or lust. He couldn't explain what it was, and neither would he try - but that was the thing about Sara - she _knew_ that he wouldn't be able to say anything, and that was okay with her. She accepted him just as he was.

Sara pulled away and eyed Grissom carefully. His expression held none of the angst she had seen there previously, almost as if he'd reached a spiritual epiphany His eyes were still and calm, his mouth gentle and relaxed, his cleft chin free of all tension. Suddenly, and impulsively, she pressed her lips to the cleft. "Gil Grissom, I love you," she whispered."I really fucking love you," she repeated emphatically.

Grissom tilted her chin and brushed his lips against his cheek. "And God knows how much I love you. You've got my heart well and truly swen up and framed alongside your diploma," he joked gently. His phone trilled, and he pulled a face. "Sure, Laura," he said, answering it. "We'll be there in a couple of minutes." He held his hand out for Sara and pulled her up. "Come on, your mom's ready to be retrieved."

Sara took hold of his hand, refusing to relinquish it. "Okay," she replied quietly.


	13. Chapter 13

Laura could tell at once when Grissom pulled up in the car that he and Sara had sorted out whatever it was they had needed to sort out. _Why the hell couldn't I find a guy like him?_ She certainly understood what Sara saw in him - tall, dark, handsome, brooding, intelligent, kind, emanating an alpha male attitude that had absolutely nothing to do with being better than other men. He was the best in his own right. After all the shit Sara had gone through, she needed someone like him - strong, yet gentle. She smiled at the two figures in the car, and approached the driver's side. "You two get in the back, she said, trying to turf Grissom and Sara out.

Sara raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

Laura rolled her eyes. "You guys must be burnt out from all this. Sit in the back, hold hands and let me drive," she said, watching Grissom reluctantly relinquish the steering wheel. He made for the other side of the car, opening the door for Sara and loading up the grocery bags on to the shotgun seat. He opened the back door for Sara, helped her in, then took a seat next to her, immediately grabbing her hand. Sara leaned into his side and closed her eyes.

Laura smiled at the sight of both of them, looking so happy and contented, the right pieces of the jigsaw puzzle finally together at the right time, in the right place. "You two make a damn good couple," she said, looking over her shoulder and smiling.

Grissom flashed her a half-smile, then turned his attention back to Sara, nuzzling her hair with his nose. "You okay?" he whispered, letting go of her hand and sliding his arm around her waist.

Sara made a drowsy, happy sound. "Mom, do you ever know when to be quiet and just let people cherish the moment?" she asked, in a mock-chiding voice.

Laura laughed. "Obviously not. I'm just happy because you two are sorted out now, all happy and together, and stuff."

"Woah, woah, hang on a minute!" Sara exclaimed. "Yeah, we've sorted out our problems, and we've spoken about things, but we haven't actually come to the decision that we're going to start dating." She exchanged a look with Grissom, making sure she hadn't made an erroneous assumption. Grissom wisely nodded.

"We'll discuss it later," he whispered in her ear.

"We're gonna hit the sack," Sara told Laura when they arrived back at the apartment. "We need a proper sleep after all this upheaval," she explained.

Laura nodded knowingly. "It's cool, you're a grown woman," Laura told her. "I have no right to tell you what to do and what not to do, especially when it comes to men," she added, winking at Grissom.

Sara chose not to say anything in reply to this, but turned to Gil. "Will you give me a few minutes to gt ready?"

His smile was benevolent. "I don't think that's gonna please your mom," he answered. "She probably won't be happy until we go in there at the same time, rip each others clothes off and frolick on the bed."

Sara swatted his arm, smiled at her mother. "Now look what you've done," she said.

"So, what exactly are we going to discuss?" Sara asked, lying in bed, pouting seductively.

Grissom raised an eyebrow and pulled his shirt over his head, revealing his smooth, broad chest. "I know we've talked about how we feel about each other," he said, slipping out of his trousers and joing her in the warm cocoon. "But what do you want to do about it?"

"Nuh-uh," she chided. "You _know_ what _I_ want. I want you, in every way - emotionally, mentally, intellectually, physically, sexually - so the question is what do _you_ want to do about it?" She placed her hands on his chest, feeling the gentle _thud_ of his heartbeat under the soft skin and sinewy muscle.

Grissom's hand slipped down her back, cupping her buttocks. "You know how I feel. I want you, I want to be there for you, in all the ways you've just described, and more. I want to be everything to you. But more than that, I want you to let me."


	14. Chapter 14

Sara looked at him incredulously. "Are you implying that I haven't let you do so?"

Grissom shook his head. "I've alluded to the fact once or twice that I need space to breath," he said. And how could either of them forget? Their cryptic words, mostly relating to people within a case, but neither of them missed the fact that their words were uttered with more than a slight tint of bitterness or suggestiveness. Just like most words they'd said to each other. "I want you to let me do it _now_," he reiterated. "I'm ready. I just want to be sure that _you're_ ready. Y'know? You could have left Vegas, or dated other guys. I want to be certain that you're committed to this."

Sara's eyes clouded over, almost black instead of their usual sweet chocolate. "You've got a fucking nerve," she hissed. "I'm the one who stayed here, often against my so-called better judgement. You have absolutely _no_ right to ask me if I'm ready. ive years ago, maybe. But this long? Fuck you, Gil," she spat.

"Hey, I'm sorry," he murmured, genuinely taken aback by her anger. One of his hands traced up her back and rubbed gently. "I didn't mean it like that. Shit, I'm an idiot," he moaned, closing his eyes in frustration.

In a change of heart, Sara placed a hand on his cheek. "I didn't mean to get mad," she apologised. "I just get so infuriated with you sometimes."

"That's what I mean," he gushed desperately. "I'm a difficult person to get along with, I don't want you to think this is going to be easy. Because I can assure you, it won't be."

"What did I tell you before? I love you for who you _are_. You're infuriating, yes, but I didn't say I wanted to change you. Shit, I _love_ your quirks, because they're part of you, and I love _all_ of you, so of course I love _them_," she stressed emphatically. She kissed his lower lip gently, and he opened his eyes.

"You mean that?" he asked in surprise. She nodded. "Jeez, no-one's ever said that before. All the women I've dated in the past, and that's not many, wanted to change me. Make me more sociable, make me more open, mold me to who _they_ wanted me to be." He blinked slowly, drinking in this woman's presence. She was intoxicating.

"Well, if I asked you to change, that'd be projection, wouldn't it? Let's face it, baby, we're too much alike for me to judge you on how _you _act. And I don't think I could change."

"I wouldn't want you to," he told her earnestly. He smiled in spite of himself. "Oh, what a tangled web we weave," he intoned, sighing.

"We don't," Sara countered. "We're just ... complex. And not really used to dealing with living human beings. So this is bound to be hard for us." She smiled and rested her head on his chest.

Grissom sighed. "This all feels very strange. In a good way," he added as he felt Sara's head rise in panic. "I'm still trying to come to terms with the fact that we're lying here, in the same bed."

"It's a very surreal experience," Sara agreed. In a moment of folly, she pressed her lips to his left pec, and felt the skin and muscle underneath ner touch flinch involuntarily. "Sorry."

"You know, we really need to break the habit of apologising for everything we do or so," he told her. "I didn't flinch because I didn't like it," he explained. "I just wasn't expecting you to do that." Sara mumbled something, but she was muffled against his chest. "What?" he asked.

"I'm tired," she said.

"Go to sleep then." Grissom closed his eyes, and rubbed her back.

Sara wasn't prepared for the sight of flesh when she woke up, and she nearly freaked, until she remembered that she was pressed up against Grissom's chest. For some reason, she was starting to feel rather aroused. Shaking her head slightly, she struggled out of his grip and checked the time on the digital clock on the bedside table. It was three in the afternoon. "Griss?" she whispered against his chest. No reply. She pulled herslef level with his face, and spoke into his ear. "Gil? I think we should get up." Her voice got slightly louder. When he still did not move, she hesitiated, then pressed a kiss to his mouth.

Grissom had the sensation of feather touching his lips, and his eyelids, their gentle black eyelashes fluttering delicately up and down, moved. "Sara? Did you just_ kiss_ me?" he asked incredulously. He felt her nod. "I thought I was the one that supposed to make the first move," he scolded.

"Got fed up with waiting," Sara teased. "Are we going to get up?" she asked.

Grissom nodded reluctantly. "Maybe, but ti's so nice and warm here, I don't wanna move," he confessed.

"Do you think we should try and do something about that when we get back to Vegas?"

"Are you suggesting that maybe we stay with each other?"

Sara shrugged laconically. "Possibly. Perhaps just one or two days a week, see how we cope being around each other with a professional relationship going on in the background."

"But we haven't even consummated yet."

"Is sex such a big deal to you?" Sara questioned.

"It's not sex," he told her. "It's physical intimacy. I just though maybe we'd make love before considering the next course of action."

"Well, no offence, but I'm certainly not sleeping with you whilst we're here. Not with my mom around, anyway." She looked into the pools of his eyes, and kissed him again.

"But you don't mind kissing me?" he asked smugly. She silenced him with her mouth, and he happily reciprocated, their lips teasing gently. One of his hands was still positioned on her bottom, and he pulled her towards him. Her arms slipped around his body, and she groaned in pleasure.

"What are you doing?" she asked when he extracted himself from the clinch.

He smiled. "Later," he said. "Come on honey, we should really get up." He kissed her briefly, and sat up. "Lets go see how your mom is," he grinned.


	15. Chapter 15

Laura reflected upon the change she saw in her daughter with this man. The teacher of whom she had _always_ spoken so affectionately. Yes, there had been times when he had infuriated by the sound of it, but watching Gil and Sara together, she knew that they both suited each other. He catered to her intense side, an aspect of Sara's personality that Laura had always been afraid to indulge. But Grissom also treated her with so much respect, so much love. He held her hand, he comforted her, and he probably wouldn't be all that bad in the sack either. And that was what Sara needed. Someone who would care for her and make her feel like she was the only person on Earth. Laura wondered if she _herself_ found him attractive. Oh, there was no doubt about it. He exuded power, confidence and ease, usually, but there was a draker tendency within him, a tendency that Laura had seen in other men. She had been concerned at first with this side of Grissom, but looking back now - she knew he would never purposely hurt Sara. He had too much heart, even if he _could_ be clueless. Yes, he was attractive, but he was too much like Sara. He wouldn't have suited _her_. And Laura didn't know if she felt bitter about it. Yes, she was happy that Sara seemed better now, but she couldn't help but feel jealous. Why couldn't Laura find a guy like that, who didn't treat her like shit? She smiled sardonically and puffed on her cigarette.

"You should really quit those things," came a deep voice from the bedroom door. Grissom stood there, leaning against the frame, in a apir of jeans and a white t-shirt.

Laura smiled. "You didn't seem to be of that opinion before," she reminded him.

"Ah, yes," he conceded, coming to take a seat at the kitchen table. "So, now I've managed to patch things up with Sara, how are _you_?"

"Free psychoanalysist sessions?" Laura questioned.

"Well, I'm here now" he told her. "Might as well do 'two for the price of one.' It's my prerogative to ensure the female Sidles are okay, y'know?"

She smiled at him. "Gil, I'm happy that my daughter's found you."

"But?"

"But ... it's not fair. I can't think of anyone who deserves you more than her."

"Except maybe you," he finished. "You don't want _me_, per se, but you want someone who will care for you." He nodded, biting his lower lip. "It's a toughie, isn't it? I can put in touch with a couple of guys I know, but I don't think that's your scene."

"You know how it is. One blemish on your past, shit, one little _quirk_, and you're not even worth taking a shit on. They don't want to know."

"You don't have to tell me about it. Sara's the first woman I've dated who isn't freaked out by bugs or dead bodies. She even persuaded me to take her to the body farm. All women I used to go out with would dump me when I mentioned I was a forensic entomologist."

"Maybe you should have told them you were a forensic _et_ymologist." They both laughed. "See what I mean? How nice it is not to be judged by someone?"

Grissom grinned. "I'd suggest a threesoe, but it's never a good idea when blood relatives are involved, and it's definitely not _my _scene. That's another thing. Not seeing the light of day automatically makes people assume you're kinky."

"Are you?"

Grissom blushed. "Not something I particularly wanna go into with my lover's mother. Maybe you can squeeze it out of Sara one day."

"So you're lovers now?"

"Unconsummated lovers," Grissom corrected. "But, yeah, we are." He paused uncomfortably. "So you're okay with me being with your daughter?"

Laura laughed in disbelief - after all she had said, he was still seeking her approval. "If _she_ didn't have a stake in you, _I'd_ be after you." She reched over and patted his sleeve. "I don't care about your age, your profession, your past - all that's important is that you love her. And you make her happy. Which you do, so it's all good." She studied his face. "I can understand why it took you two so long to get anywhere."

"Huh?" he grunted, frowning slightly.

"You're completely clueless. God, that's so sweet," she trilled. "Sara!" she called.

A dishevlled head poked around the bathroom door. "Mom, I'm busy!"

"Is this guy not the cutest?" Laura yelled.

Sara rolled her eyes, and received an apologetic grin from Grissom. "Yes, he is. That's why I love him. Can I continue getting ready?"

"Sure."

The rest of the day, the three of them just relaxed around the apartment. Laura watched television, and a programme occassionally appealed to Sara, but for the most part, she lay at one end of the sofa engaged in a book, with Grissom at the other end rading his book, their legs meeting and intertwining in the middle. Laura and Sara cooked their evening meal together, leaving Grissom to his own devices (i.e. reading) for an hour or so.

"He needs his own space," Sara explained after she had followed her mother to the kitchen.

"What guy doesn't?" Laura hadn't missed the anxiety in her daughter's face. "Honey, what are you so worried about?"

Sara leaned against the counter and folded her arms across her chest. "I'm scared that when we go back to Vegas, he's going to decide that he can't be around me. That because he sees me at work five days a week, he'll feel I'm around him too much, and that he won't be able to bear it." She closed her eyes, heaving a sigh that matched the swell of her chest.

"Have you told him that?" Laura asked as she pulled utensils and food from the cupboards.

"Mom, I can't do that to him. It's already been hard enough for him to cope with everything we've drudged up here. I don't need to give him an extra excuse to run off and leave me."

"Sara, have you though about this ratioanlly? From how he's acted here, from what he's told me regarding his feelings for you, I think abandoning you is the last thing on his mind. He strikes me as the sort of person to carry things through to the end. He's a scientist, damnit! He's conscientious." Her words seemed to have a calming effect on her daughter. "Look, never mind helping me here. If it's so important, talk to him about it. I'm sure he'll understand."

Sara felt the sensation of deja vu, going to tell Grissom about one more thing that scared her, or upset, or plagued her mind. If she was feeling like this, she could bet she was probably pissing him off. "Griss?" er voice was quite, reluctant to invade his space or his thoughts.

Gil looked up and saw Sara standing hunched by the other end of the couch. He smiled brightly. "Hey. Can;t stay away, huh? I gotta say, I was beginning to miss you sitting here." He sat up and patted his legs. "Come and sit on my knee," he said. When he saw the look on her face, he repeated the gesture. "Come on, I won't bite. At least, I won't if you don't want me to," he added, his eyes twinkling in smutty delight.

Sara nervously approached him and perched herself awkwardly on his knees. He immediately slipped his arms around her and pressed his face to her side, breathing in her scent.

"So, honey, what seems to be the problem?"

"I'm scared."

"Of what?" One hand rubbed absent-mindedly at her back, lifting his head and pressing a kiss to her cheek.

"Vegas. I don't want us to get back and have you realise that you don't want me around. You'll be around me for one shift a day, five days a week. I ...".

He pressed a finger to her lips to silence her. "Honey, you won't be around me for five shifts a week. I was hoping maybe you'd stay with me at weekends as well, and that we could have breakfast and dinner together. I want you to stop worrying that I'm gonna bail on you, and we've already gone into that. Short of making a blood pact with you, I don't know what else I can say apart from 'I love you and I want you.' You know me. I have my office, I use that as my personal space. And I'm sure we could come to some dort of agreement if we lived together, no matter how infrequent it was. I know you value _your_ privacy. You're independent, and so am I, ad that's what's so good about us. We understand that on some days we might not want to be around other people. We should adapt to that fact, not spend needless energy obsessing over the fact that we might not be able to change it." He pulled her closer to him, capturing her in a tender kiss. "I love you," he ennunciated, resting his forehead against hers. "Unless you give me my marching orders, I'm not going anywhere."


	16. Chapter 16

The rest of the trip was quiet - no more revelations or tears or discomfort - just three people enjoying one another's company, watching television, reading, chatting, joking. Sara had never known Gil to be this animated, Grissom had never known Sara's mother would have been so laid-back, and Laura had never known Sara to be this happy.

"I really like your mom," Grissom told Sara as they lay in bed. It was the night before they were due to fly back to Vegas, and they were basking in the afterglow of a pleasant evening.

"When guys start saying that, I'd normally start worrying that you were going to run off with her." She relaxed into his arms more, smelling his aftershave and purring happily.

"And now?" He rubbed his nose along her hair, inhaling the scent of fruit shampoo.

"Now? Now I know that I'd be able to get away with killing both of you without leaving a trace," she laughed. She rested her head against his shoulder. "Now I feel much more secure than I did previously. It's been a great help, being able to have you here. You don't know how grateful I am."

"Honey, I _do_. I've seen such a change in you. It's a subtle change, 'cause you always come across as being strong and unbreakable, but you're not. Well, you weren't, but I can tell that you've become a lot stronger." He kissed her forehead. "I know we've had problems to work through, and I know you came here for traumatic reasons, to find answers, and we've gone through a lot of angst. But I have enjoyed being here with you and your mom. We have had an okay time. I hope."

Sara lifted her head, propping it up on her hand. With the other hand, she ran a finger up and down Grissom's bare chest. She smiled lovingly at him. "I have," she told him earnestly. "I'm glad you've been here, and I'm glad you and my mom get along, and to be honest, I'm just glad this has all happened."

Grissom returned her smile, dropping his chin to his chest as he watched her fingers run over his skin. "You have the softest touch," he complimented her.

"Yeah, and I can do wild things with it."

"Such as?"

"I know you have an extra errogenous zone."

He blushed. "But we haven't ... how would you know?"

"I accidentally brushed against it when you were alseep the other night. You smiled and mumbled 'Oh, that feels nice,' and your biological function kicked in," she told him, grinning, nodding her head in the direction of his groin.

He blushed even more. "Yeah, well, uh, maybe you didn't hit a spot. I was having a dream. About us." He stared at his crotch in self-loathing. I thought I was getting too old for that stuff."

"I think it's cute and endearing. But I'll bet you twenty bucks that I was right about the spot."

Grissom raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

Sara nodded. "Yup." The hand tracing across his chest moved further over, pushing his arm out at an angle. She gently and slowly ran one solitary finger across the tender flesh on the underside of his bicep, drawing a shudder and a groan. "Twenty bucks to me," she said triumphantly, holding her hand out as if to accept the bill.

Grissom smiled evilly. "How about ...?" he said, one arm reaching over and pinning her shoulder to the bed. "You accept payment in another form?"

Sara looked into his eyes, catching the glint in them. She settled back into the pillow, allowing him to shift on top of her. "Check, PayPal, credit card, sexual favours," she breathed. "It's all the same to me."

"Good." That was the last word that passed over his tongue before he passed his tongue over hers.

They didn't make love that night. Both had previously agreed anyway that it wouldn't be considerate to do so with Laura in the apartment. But most of all, they wanted to wait for Vegas, wanted to wait for their own beds. They simply made out for a while, trying to keep their vocals as low as possible, bathing in the comfort and arousal just being able to kiss and touch each other. Then they fell asleep holding each other.

_Knock. Knock. Knock._ "Hey guys, time to get up!" Laura's voice slipped through the gaps between the door and floor. "Come on, up!"

Sara sat up groggily, and Grissom stirred beside her. "Jeez, honey, your mom always this vociferous in getting you up for school?"

Sara mustered a smile and put a hand on his arm. "Okay mom, we're awake." She turned back to Grissom. "Yep. And don't kid yourself babe, I've inherited the voice." She gave him a suggestive smirk for a brief second, and then swung her long legs from underneath the covers. "Gil's going to eat while I get ready, 'cause I gotta wash my hair," she called to Laura.

"There's air-conditioning on the plane," Grissom warned. "You might catch a chill."

Sara rolled her eyes. "I'm gonna blow-dry it, don't worry."

The farewell was a slightly teary affair. Laura held her daughter tightly. "You take care of yourself, okay?" she whispered. "It's been good having you here, I know it might have been hard at times, but I'm glad you decided to come." She gave her daughter one last squeeze, then released her, holding her arms out for Grissom. "And you, big fella. Keep an eye on her for me, will you?"

"You _know_ I will. And you take care of _your_self, right? You ever need anything, or you wanna talk, just call me, or Sara."

"Gil, you're a good man, and I trust you with my daughter. But anything happens, and I'll find you, you hear me?"

Grissom nodded against her shoulder. "I promise," he replied somberly.

"I'm glad you came, too. It's been a pleasure," she said, also releasing him, but not before she reached and pinched his ass.

He turned bright red and Sara's mouth formed an 'o'. "Mom, I swear I will get you one of these days. Hands off my man, okay?" Why did parents always feel obliged to embarrass their children?

Laura smiled and shrugged. "What? Nothing has actually happened between you two yet, this is the last time I can legitimately pinch his ass. I gotta confess, Gil, I been wanting to do that since I first laid eyes on you." She turned to Sara. "He has an exceedingly lovely tush." Sara just closed her eyes and shook her head.

Grissom managed to smile. "I'll take that as a compliment, Laura," he said.

Sara also smiled, and the three enjoyed one last quiet moment together. "Okay, go check in before I go all Niagra Falls on you," Laura said, sniffing slightly.

"We'll call you as soon as we land," Grissom told her, picking up his bags, and grabbing hold of Sara's hand.

"Bye mom."

"Bye Sara, bye Gil."

"Love you, mom."

"And you."


	17. Chapter 17

Grissom looked sideways. Sara's head was resting on his shoulder, her eyes closed, a peaceful smile playing about her lips. The smile was reflected on his mouth, and he bent his neck, playing a gentle kiss on her mouth. God, she was beautiful. She was precious, and loving and vulnerable, and his heart ached for her. And here she was, placing her trust in him so completely. With great tenderness and yearning, he shook her shoulder. "Sara, sweetheart, we'll be landing in five minutes. Wake up."

Her eyelids fluttered, and she slowly came to, the first thing she saw being those gorgeous blue orbs gazing into hers. "Hmm," she hummed. "That you, honey?"

Without thinking, he kissed her again, chastely, tenderly, but leaving an erotic charge on her mouth, where his lips had been. "Sure is," he replied softly, smiling at her.

"Where are we going after we've landed?" she asked, forcing herself to swallow, trying so damned hard not to betray her sense of anxiety.

He took her hand and applied the lightest amount of pressure, rubbing it with his thumb. "Where would you like to go? You're more than welcome to stay at mine. If you wanted, we could go to yours. Or," he added, grimacing, "you might want to be on your own. It's up to you. I'll go along with you, even if you choose the third option."

"Mine. Then at least you can leave any tim you want. If we're at yours, there's nowhere for you to run."

"Maybe I don't want to run. Maybe we should go to mine."

"I'd like that."

"So would I. I love you." Christ, she must have really been hurt by everything that had happened to her in the past. Why else would she be afraid that he was going to up and leave? The ache in his chest expanded.

Grissom wouldn't let her carry her bags this time. He didn't care how much she protested, he needed to show her how dedicated he was. He put them in the trunk of the car, which they'd left in long-term parking, and opened the passenger door for her. All the while he drove, he kept one hand on her knee, caressing it softly.

"Here we are," he said, pulling the car into the drive by the townhouse. He watched Sara take in her surroundings, a tad uncomfortable with the prospect of staying with her boss, here, in Vegas. It hadn't bothered her so much in California, because they were on neutral ground, but here ...

"Are you sure?" she asked uncertainly, the twinkle she had from LA slowly being tarnished by the desert air.

"How about we go inside, and I'll show you how sure I am," he murmured, dragging the luggage from the trunk.

As soon as they got inside, he dropped their bags on the floor, and scooped Sara into his arms, kissing her passionately. "God, you have no idea how long I've waited to do that," he gasped against her neck, his breathing ragged.

Sara couldn't say anything - he had virtually stolen her breath away. The kiss was arousing and loving at the same time, and she craved more. She pulled away, tiling his head from her shoulder. She returned his gesture, and soon they were all over each other, hands pulling at clothes. running through hair, holding bodies close.

"Bedroom ... now," Grissom just managed to utter, his hands slipping under Sara's thighs, pulling her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he carried her to the bedroom. He lay her down on the bed gently and peeled off her already-unbuttoned shirt. Perhaps in anticipation of what might happen, Sara had chosen lingerie instead of normal underwear, and seeing her in a light green lace bra sent his hormones into overdirve.

"My God, you're simply stunning." He traced his fingers over each cup, feeling her nipples harden under the fabric. He drew back, stripping off his shirt and trousers, his thick erection obvious through his boxers. He freed Sara's slacks from her legs, on his hands and knees at the end of the bed. Casting a gaze to her face, he looked away and kissed his way up each leg, mouth swapping from thigh to thigh, kissing, suckling, biting ever so gently. Sara moaned above him, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. Hands on her hips, he kissed his way up, placing his lips on the light green filmy triangle between her legs, trailing his mouth up her stomach, past her navel, between her breasts, nibbling her neck, sucking her bottom lip.

"Oh, Gil, oh, God, this is, oh," she gasped in between kisses. Her hands slid down his chest, drawing an appreciate murmur from his lips, and nestled themselves in his boxers. She took him in her hands, stroking him gently, torturously, earning an aroused growl.

"Fuck," he groaned. "Do you have any protection?" he asked, almost breaking the spell.

"No."

"There's a condom in the draw on the right-hand side, reach over and get it."

One hand withdrew, and she stretched out her arm in that sexy feline manner she possessed. He was about take the foil package from her, but she shook her head. "Allow me," she whispered huskily.

His eyes closed as she sheathed him, a sigh escaping his lips. "God, honey, I love you," he whispered. "I want you so much."

Sara shifted her hips, tilting to give him enough access. "Here I am, baby," she told him.

He stroked into her powerfully, and they both groaned out loud. They established a rhythm, hips grinding, hands holding, lips kissing. She held on to him for dear life, never imagining that he could be so ... experienced, knowing exactly what to do, which buttons to press. He had never before struck her as being romantically adept, in any way, but her she was, being lovingly impaled by him. Her thighs tightened, as did her legs, and they squeezed involuntarily on his waist. "Harder," she begged. "Harder."

"I'm, ugh, oh, GOD, I'm trying," he yelled, feeling wonderful spasms shooting through their joined bodies. She reached her climax first, heels digging in tight to his back, and he shuddered shortly after her, causing her to orgasm a second time.

"Oh, dear God," she whimpered, tears spilling across her face.

"Honey, don't cry," he pleaded, blue eyes enlarging in panic and concern. He touched her cheek and brushed away the tears with his thumb, kissing her eyelids.

"You'd, uh, you'd better," she gasped, nodding down between them. Gently, he withdrew, rolling the prophylactic off and twisting a know in it. He dropped it in the bin at the side of his bed, and sat up, pulling the sheets back.

"You getting in?" he asked, touching her shoulder. This time his eyes comforted her, and she knew she was safe, that he would never leave. Sitting there naked, looking after her, he was as vulnerable as she was. She nodded gratefully, climbing under the duvet. He followed her and pulled her to him, kissing her forehead. "I love you."

"I love you too," she whisered, holding on to him tightly.

"Get some sleep, honey," he said, words muffled by her hair.


	18. Chapter 18

AS I START TO WRITE THIS, I DO SO WITH THE INTENTION THAT THIS IS THE FINAL CHAPTER, SO I WOULD LIKE TO THANK EVERYBODY WHO IS READING THIS STORY, ESPECIALLY THOSE WHO HAVE TAKEN THE TIME TO DROP ME A LINE AND REVIEW IT. ALTHOUGH THIS IS A BITTER-SWEET ENDING FOR THIS STORY, WHICH I HAVE COME TO LOVE, KNOWING ME, I'LL PROBABLY FIND AN EXCUSE TO WRITE ANOTHER CHAPTER. MAYBE I COULD MAKE IT INTO ONE LONG WIP.

_Three months later._

Grissom had conveniently avoided every question Sara had flung at him during throughout the shift. _What are we doing tonight? What have you got planned? Are you up to something?_ And yet he still resisted the temptation to inform her of what was going on. He had told her sweetly at the end of shift that he would be half an hour or so behind her, as he had to finish logging some evidence, and so she should get a shower and get ready whilst she awaited him.

She impatiently thrummed her fingers on the steering wheel as she came to a stop at a red light. She would be at the condo in five minutes, depending on how quickly this light would change, and she was savouring the feeling that she would be alone for thirty minutes. Oh, she didn't mind being around Grissom, but now that she had moved in with him, she appreciated the odd moments of independence she could snatch, being a creature of habit and all. She steered the car along the road, pulling in at the drive. She fumbled in her purse for her house keys, and let herself in, humming lightly.

The hot water cascading down her back made her forget all about the strenuous day she'd had, not made any better by the fact she and Gil hadn't made love in a week. To a lot of people, and to her four or five months previosuly, that wouldn't have been a big deal, but now that they were in such close proximity to each other, and at such a frequency, sexual tension built up between them quite quickly. During the past seven days, she had, she admitted to herself, been very provocative at work whenever she and Grissom had worked a case. Licking her lips, fluttering her eyelashes, brushing past him, hoping to ellicit some sort of response. Instead he would smile back at her knowingly, and come home and go to sleep before she had a chance to even kiss him goodnight. So standing in the shower, she felt waves of arousal wash over her body, as real and definite as the water cleansing her body.

She turned the shower off, and wrapped herself in a towel, drying off her body as best as she could. She recalled that the only clean clothes she had were in the bedroom. She opened the door joining the bathroom to Gil's bedroom, and immediately spotted something on the bed. Approaching it gingerly, it became clear to her what was resting on top of the duvet. She reached out and touch the silk with her fingers, feeling shudders down her spine. The lingerie was black and red, and there were not only a bra and panties, but stockings too. She spied a little box, and a note, scrawled elegantly by a familiar hand.

_Dear Sara - _

_I hope you do not mind the trite choice of colour for the underwear, but I thought it would suit you. The stockings will cetainly accentuate those lovely long legs of yours. Anyhow, away from the poetry and alliteration - I have a serious question for you tonight. Aside from donating a kidney or giving you three pints of my blood, this is the closest thing to complete devotion that I can offer. I don't know if you've already guessed what's in the box, and I will certainly ask you in person. But I want you to marry me. I love you more than words could ever describe, more than I would be able to do justice by simply telling you._

_Love, Gil_

_Oh, and by the way, I know what you've been up to the past week, but I wouldn't worry about it tonight._

Sara felt tears pricking at her eyes. He really loved her. After him telling her all this time, after being so supportive and kind at her mother's, she still hadn't dared to believe that maybe he cared, that he really wanted her. But she _knew_ now. This was all the proof she would ever need. Resisting the urge to open the tiny box, she composed herself, finished drying her body, and dressed herself in the lingerie.

Although Grissom was whistling as he opened the front door, his gut felt like it had three hundred cigarettes being stubbed out in it. He breathed deeply, worried about so many things. _Will she like the lingerie? Will the lingerie fit? Will she like the ring? Will she even want to marry me?_

"Sara?" he called nervously, undoing the top button of his shirt and loosening the blue tie. He had been to a court appearance earlier in the day, and was still wearing his court attire - black jacket, white shirt, blue tie and black slacks, not to mention his glasses.

"In here," he heard he call from the bedroom. She _sounded_ perfectly fine, but for all he knew, she could be sitting curled up crying her eyes out. Unceratinly, he pushed the bedroom door open, his head bobbing around. His breath caught in his throat, and the rest of his body caught up wih his head. He stalked in a predatory fashion into the room, hands by his sides, jaw working back and forth. "It fits, then?" he asked.

"The ring or the lingerie?" Sara demanded. She was reclining on the bed, looking sultry and sexy.

"Both?" he croaked, closing his eyes and still seeing that image of her imprinted behind the eyelids.

"Ah, well the lingerie fits like a glove," she teased lightly. "But I haven't tried the ring on yet." She saw his eyes flutter open in terror. "Honey, it's only because I wanted you to put it on for me," she calmed him.

"Does that mean ... yes?" he asked, frightened and aroused all at once. The beats stirred within him, and when she nodded, his shoulders sloped forward as his feet carried him towards her, like some wild cat closing in for the kill. Sara handed him the box, and he accepted it, kneeling in front of her. He ran his fingers down her hips, feeling the erotic change from lace to skin to stocking. He opened the box, and took her left hand in his. "Sara Sidle ... would you do me the honour of marrying me? Of putting up with me for the rest of our natural time on earth? Of loving me like no other woman has?"

She pretended to consider the question. "We-ell," she muttered. "I don't know. When you phrase the question like that, I suppose ... oh, what the hell, Gil.. You _know_ there would be no greater pleasure for me than marrying you."

He slipped the ring on her finger, and stood, kissing her tenderly. "There would be no greater pleasure, huh?" he growled in her ear. "How about we put that theory to the test." He received an agreeing moan from Sara, and he gently steered her towards the bed.


	19. Chapter 19

WHAT DID I SAY? I KNEW THIS WOULD HAPPEN. THIS IS DEFINITELY THE FINAL CHAPTER. I PROMISE. UNLESS ... NO, IT'S THE FINAL ONE.

Grissom kissed every part of exposed flesh he could touch his mouth to. Sara may have been asleep, but that didn't stop her from being beautiful. He cast his mind back to making love to her. He had deliberatley spurned her advances from the past week because he knew what he wanted to do that night, he wanted the night of their engagement to be special and beautiful, like she was to him.

As his lips settled once more on her shoulder, kissing, then nipping, Sara stirred. "Mmm," she murmured, smiling sleepily. "Do you mind me asking you a question?" she purred.

He smiled in wonder at the bewitching creature beside him. There was no way she was human. Not with how she could make him feel, with what she could do, with what she could make _him_ do. Half the things that took place in their bedroom, he never thought he'd even _want_ to do to a woman. "You already did, but since you asked nicely, go ahead." His hand reached over, and he traced patterns on her stomach.

"How did you learn to do things like that? I never had you down as such a lothario, and the way you seduced me last night? I didn't know you had it in you."

"You mean, you didn't know you had _me_ in _you_," he teased, earning a slight smile and a slap on the arm. "Seriously? It all comes from how I always dreamed it would be between us."

Sara eyes widened in shock. "You used to think about ... _us_? In _bed?_" He nodded.

"Not just in bed. Sometimes in the most inappropriate places. I mean that in the context that not only would we be in bed, _and_ in the context that my thoughts did not only occur when _I_ was in bed. So if you ever noticed me being distant or grouchy with you, it was because you caught me at a frustrating time."

Sara smiled in wonder. "Shit, I never knew I had that effect on you. I, on the other hand, wore my heart completely on my sleeve. God, I was like a little schoolgirl with a crush on her professor. I know it _was_ like that at first, but then I realised that most crushes probably don't include some of the more graphic thoughts I had about you. Jeez, I must have looked so pathetic, mooning after you all the time." She gave a chuckle that was loaded in self-deprecation. "God, I am such a masochist."

Grissom threaded his fingers through hers, the other hand tracing up and down her hip. "I don't think that's the case," he whispered. "If so, you really wouldn't have enjoyed last night, and from what you whispered in my ears, you wanted more."

Her eyes narrowed playfully, and her hand slipped between his legs. He closed his eyes and she giggled. "I wasn't the only one," she recalled. She removed her hand, laughing openly at the chagrined look on Gil's face. He lifted her left hand, and she observed the ring properly. "It's beautiful," she murmured, awe dominating her tone.

"Like you," he replied quietly. The ring was a plain gold band, with three small diamonds set in the top. He placed a kiss on top of it, then lifted his head to aze into her chocolate eyes, sweet and sensual with a wonderous glow. "Are you serious about this? You didn't just agree to marry me because it was in the heat of the moment and we were both randy?"

She touched his cheek with her hand. "Babe, I mean it, juts like you meant to ask me. I want you. That's never changed. I've always wanted you. For a long while, I was just concerned that you didn't want me."

Grissom's eyes turned a melancholy blue, smoky and sad. "I know, sweetheart, I know."

"And _I_ know now that you do want me, and that you won't walk out on me. Gil, I love you."

"I love you too. And as I've said many times, I'm not going anywhere. Unless it's with you." He kissed her cheek tenderly. "You stay, there, I'll make us some breakfast."

"In the nude?"

"Ex_cuse_ me?"

"Naked cooking."

"No way. I don't wanna burn anything," he gasped, astonished.

"Well, we gotta have something sexy to do with food. Pancakes and syrup?" she suggested.

"Don't tempt me," he growled dangerously. "I might just take you up on that offer."

When Grissom returned to the bedroom, Sara had wrapped herself in a robe, and was snuggled under the blankets. He handed her the tray, and climbed in next to her, removing items from the tray - orange juice, coffee, and a large plate of pancakes. He handed her the bottle of syrup. "If you're wearin' a robe, how I am supposed to ...". He waved his hands, indicating the syrup bottle.

"That was a joke," she told him, squirting the goo over the pancakes. A little syrup got on her fingers, and Grissom quickly grabbed her hand, licking it off. "After," she told him simply.

He pouted, and sipped his orange juice. "You're no fun," he chided.

"Yes I am, but I'm also practical." She held a forkful of pancake and syrup up to his mouth, and he accepted. Some syrup dribbled down into the cleft in his chin, and Sara took great pleasure in kissing that dimple, her lips becoming sticky with sweet gloop. "You have any idea how erotic this is?" she giggled.

"Yeah, and I'm sure you do too, otherwise you'd never have suggested it," he grinned.

They finished their pancakes in silence, exchanging tender smiles, occassionally kissing or feeding each other. When they had finished, they kissed slowly, savouring the sweet taste. "You sure know how to cook," Sara praised him.

He blushed, and shot her a grateful smile. "Well, I used to have nothing to occuppy my time. I needed something to distract myself instead of thinking about you, and I needed to live, so ...". He trailed off and shrugged, looking so adorably cute.

It was Sara's turn to blush. "I used to just wallow in the thought of you," she admitted.

Grissom put an arm around her, pressing the side of his face to her hair. "I was scared of doing that. I felt that if I did, I'd eventually end up obsessing over you, and pulling a Doctor Lurie on you, because I thought I wouldn't be able to have you.

"I heard you," Sara said quietly.

"Hmm?" He realised too late, and frowned.

"I heard you that day. It doesn't matter now, of course. But back then, it did. It hurt. I suppose that was the start of my downward spiral." She took in his subdued expression. "Gil, I know now that you were just as afraid as I. And with you're position, admitting you love me, shit, that would have been a huge step to take. You're brilliant and professional and intelligent, and you have so much more to lose than me. I realise that now, of course," she repeated. She squeezed his leg. "I don't blame you for my problems any more," she told him frankly.

Grissom closed his eyes. "You know that hurting you was the last thing on my mind. I admit I was selfish - I put myself first, I never thought how my behaviour might affect you. But hopefully we can put that behind us."

"'S'already way behind us on the freeway, baby," she told him, smiling. "But if you're not convinced, there's a bottle of syrup with our name on it."

Grissom laughed. "Are you joking?" He saw that from the expression on her face, she wasn't. "Seriously?"

Sara nodded. "Hey, that's what showers are for."

OKAY, YOU KNOW I SAID THIS WAS THE FINAL CHAPTER? I WAS WRONG. I'M LIKE PRINGLES (EXCEPT HEALTHIER AND MORE MORAL) - ONCE I START WRITING, I CAN'T STOP.


	20. Chapter 20

The water sprayed on their bodies, washing it clean of syrup and sex. They lathered each other, enjoying the feel of the foam between their bodies.

"I can't believe we just did that," Sara uttered as Gil swabbed shower gel over her back.

"I hope there's a difference between 'I can't believe we just did that' and 'I never want to do that again'," he told her.

"Oh, there is. Did you have any idea you were this kinky?"

"Me? You're just as ... kinked," she giggled, wriggling under his touch.

"Maybe," he conceded. "But it didn't bother you at all?" He was worried, and he didn't know why. Well, he had an inkling. He wasn't aware, properly, of the nature of Sara's past relationships. He didn't want their time together to be dominated by sex - actually, that wouldn't be a bad thing - he specifically didn't want her thinking that he was only here for her body. "Sara?"

"Gil," she replied, trying to keep straight-faced and serious.

"Seriously."

"Yes?" She closed her eyes to fend off the giggles.

"I enjoy my time with you. I know we seem to spend a lot of time making love, and I wanted to make sure, I need you to know that I don't want you simply for your body. I enjoy making love to you, I enjoy all the time we spend having leisurely sex, by God, I _love_ it," he enthused. "But I want to be sure that you know I'm not with you purely because you're a sex object."

Sara turned in his arms and looked him dead in the eye. Being relatively the same height as him brought a charge to all their contact, as lovers are only normally level when in bed. She brought a finger up to his lips. "Griss, you're the last person who would ever treat _any_ woman as an object of desire. You love me, and you love my body, but in a way that's different from desire."

"Not the point, honey," he said against her finger. The water had flattened his curls completely, pressing them to his scalp. His head was tilted down, and water dripped from his nose, ran off his forehead in rivulets. "I love you for your mind. For your compassion. For your dillgence in everything you do. For the fact that I want to protect you. I've never felt like this, for _any_one. You bring out a side to me that I thought I'd lost, and that makes me a better person. I love you for who you make _me_." Salt tears mingled with the warm liquid streaming down his face.

Sara smiled tenderly. "I know, sweetheart." Her voice - it was so pure, so full of unashamed love. "You're a good person. You're careful and cautious, and so fucking infuriating, and you're mine. I love you for everything that you are. And for the record, I have no complaints about our sex-life. Making love to you just makes me want you even more. To be honest, I never looked at sex like this before we first made love. I just thought it was a necessity to dating. I've never been made to feel so special, like I'm the one important thing in the room."

"I take it your past relationships hurt you," he mumbled. They had given up the pretence of washing each other, and just stood in the falling water, holding each other. He rested his head against hers.

"No-oo. Not really. But they weren't special. It was just 'Oh, Sara, fancy coming over for a fuck?' And back then I was naive enough to believe that physical proximity equated to love. But it doesn't. Or at least, it didn't in those circumstances. What _we _do together is just a reflection of our love. And that's fine with me. I enjoy the times we have fun sex, and make-up sex, and make love, and sometimes I get a little scared of having angry sex."

"Yeah, I should probably stop that," he whispered, ashamed that he scared her. The angry sex was a result of traumatic cases. Then, they would just come home, rip their clothes off, jump into bed and fuck as a way of releasing their emotions. Gil, never really wearing his heart on his sleeve, was, at the best of times, an intense guy, and it was sometimes a little unnerving to see him engaging in such catharsis - it was probably the only time he was rough, the only time he revealed the real monster lurking within. Fun sex was just them fooling about and having a laugh, like with the syrup, make-up sex was if they'd had an argument or a disagreement, or just felt in that sort of mood, and making love was when Gil was at his most tender and gentle.

"Gil, honey, it's okay, you shouldn't have to apologise. I understand that it's the only way you can really let off steam. I don't have a problem with it," she stressed, rubbing his back. She knew what this called for. "You want make-up sex?" she quizzed.

He squeezed her back and gave a laugh. "Third time in twenty-four hours? You're trying to kill me," he replied.

"I am not!" Sara exclaimed indignantly.

"Hey, hey, did I say I minded? I wouldn't mind dying like that."

"Don't talk about death, please," Sara mumbled.

He kissed her temple, and his hands slid down her back.

They eventually stumbled from the shower. He towel-dried her gently and thorughly, focusing on each separate part of her body, treating her with same respect and tenderness and interest that he would normally reserve for one of his bugs. "You have the most amazing legs," he whispered in awe, kissing the side of her calf.

That her body could inspire this much devotion was still rather intimidating. No man she had ever been with devoted this much time to each part of her body, savoured the image she presented when naked, or semi-naked, or fully clothed. "You have a leg fetish," she told him, leaning back against the bathroom sink.

"No. I have a _Sara_ fetish," he corrected, still gently towel-drying her. Convinced she had no more patches of damp on her body, he stood with a groan, hearing his knees protest.

"Well, whatever it is, it's my turn now," she told him, seeing the look of horror on his face. "What?" Then she knew. Even when they were in bed, he was just as modest as she in terms of displaying his body. He had been embarrassed with his chest, with his ass, with his dick - the guy was still insecure.

"I'm just not sure. Is it fair to ask a woman to dry a guy? I have dangly bits," he added lamely.

Sara smiled, her eyes twinkling along with her lips. "I know. And I love those dangly bits as much as I love the rest of you. I would have thought that would seem clear to you after all this time," she said. "C'mon, you should give yourself some credit - you're an incredibly buff guy. Those arm muscles," she said, trailing her fingers down his biceps and forearms. "Your chest," she added, fingers following. "Y'know, there may be no definition, no six-pack, but you're still - firm -" She made this final point by gently swatting his ass. "You have the most magnificent ...". He gasped as she felt her fingers curl around the aforementioned 'dangly bits.' "You have absolutely nothing of which to be ashamed."

"If that's the case, and you still want to, hurry up and dry me before I get a chill."

Sara lovingly stroked the towel over his body, enjoying watching the sensation of his muscles jumping under her touch. _So charming. Not._ _So modest. So chivalrous._

They washed the dishes together, then sat on the couch, spooned into each other, drinking coffee. "Do you have any timeline at all?"

"Huh?" Grissom turned his head to look at her.

"Well, unless I'm experiencing auditory hallucinations, you asked me to marry you. Did you have any ideas about how long we should be engaged for? When we should get married?"

Grissom shrugged. "I think six months would be a suitable amount of time. We've already known each other for over ten years, and we've been a couple for three months. We're gonna have to sort out the situation at work, but I don't think there should be much to worry about - if need be, I can resign to do teaching work. I have a friend who has owes me a favour." He spied Sara's shocked expression. "What?"

"I couldn't ask you to give up your job."

"Good, because I'm not expecting you to ask. I hate being a supervisor. The politics, the paperwork. I wanna teach. I remember how much I enjoyed teaching, how much I could give people."

"Maybe it won't come to that," Sara hurriedly mumbled.

"Honey, I'm sure it won't, but if it does, I'm just saying that I have a back-up."

"Why not me? Why can't I leave?"

"Because there's so much more left for you to do as a CSI. You have more to offer than me, and I know that you still get a sense of purpose out of what you do." He put his mug on the table and turned to look at her fully, taking both her hands in his. "Sara, honey. I'm getting on. There's not a lot of things open for me at LVMPD, not many places I have left to go. Besides, I want to do this," he told her.

Sara smiled, and captured him in an enticing kiss. "You know, if anybody had told me six years ago that you were a romantic, or anything even remotely close to this, I would have laughed in their face."

Grissom kissed back, pushing her lightly into the sofa. "And now?"

"Now? I don't believe there's anyone more romantic than you. I love you, Gil."

"I love you too, Sara. And if I could, I'd marry you now."

"Maybe we should call Warrick and get the name and address of that drive-thru wedding place."

"No way. I'm marrying you properly. Proper dress, proper ceremony, proper reception, proper honeymoon night and lingerie - proper everything."

"You know, for all that, it's worth the wait."

THE END. AND THIS TIME, I'M NOT LYING. THANK YOU EVERYONE.


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